


Morpheme

by infraredphaeton



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Chronic Illness, Cryptography, F/M, Fuuinjutsu, Gen, Kakashi is a troll, Kekkei Genkai | Bloodline Limit, M/M, Male OC - Freeform, OC/SI, Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Sakumo Lives, Self-Insert, mostly about family feelings, original clan, our OC is a fool, realistic approach to the setting, summoned creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-13 04:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infraredphaeton/pseuds/infraredphaeton
Summary: A morpheme is the smallest part of a word that still has meaning. If you take away everything else, you still know what it means. When you take away everything else of me, this is what remains....It's mostly good hair and a love of language. Everything else is take it or leave it, really.(In which a very sarcastic guy gets reborn into a small poisoner's clan in Konoha, and accidentally saves a life. Things change.)
Comments: 302
Kudos: 1763
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Naruto - (読み返す [よみかえす]), Not to be misplaced





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never found an OC/SI with a dude before. Please, please, if you have recs, let me know.

Dokuso Arashi.

Dokuso translates properly to 'toxin', but it's made of two kanji- Doku, for poison, and So, for elementary, or basic. The basic property of poison- toxicity. Arashi is a one character name, meaning storm or tempest. It's a good, solid name, all told. Three characters, all interesting stroke orders and complex lines. But, I mean, my name is literally Toxic Storm. I sound like a derby girl, but even more edgelordy because I don't have the excuse of a fun pun and a competitive sports atmosphere.

Rather, my mother looked down at me, a little bundle of sallow skin and damp greyish green hair lying on her chest, and said, "darling, I've got it. Doesn't he look just like a Toxic Storm?"

And my father, who had been sitting next to my mother, a terryifying assassin-warrior with a specialisation in torture, while she went through thirteen hellish hours of labour and he did nothing, very wisely said "you're completely right, dear."

And that's how I ended up as Dokuso Arashi.

Now, one might assume that this story was told to me as a child, perhaps as a fun anecdote and reason why mother isn't allowed to name anything anymore, but unfortunately, I was aware for the conversation- not properly, more like when you're asleep, and somebody wakes you up just enough to go to bed, and you half-remember the conversation, and the walking, and falling into bed, but not well enough to pinpoint everything that happened. That's my memory for the first three years of life- in and out, fuzzy and unsure, peppered with little discrete moments like my first steps, the first time I met a puppy, my first time throwing a kunai. You know. Normal kid things.

Ah, a few steps back, I suppose. I died, early, the kind of early that makes people shake their head and go 'oh, how tragic. He was taken from us too soon.' Complications from complications from the kind of cold that most people shake off after a few days in bed and some soup. Cold to pneumonia to lung infection to blood infection to death. I... I'd always made jokes about how my condition was going to lead me to an early death, but I hadn't really expected it. It's scary, holding yourfriend's hand and falling asleep as she jokes about how you better get better soon and come home, because her cooking is nowhere near your standards and she's starving to death, and then waking up somewhere entirely different. It was cold. I was cold. I… don’t want to think about it. 

When everything finally snapped back into place, once my little baby brain had grown enough to actually make connections, I was distinctly Unhappy. See, it didn't take long for me to figure out I was in the world that Naruto is set in, if a few years distant from the story I read- admittedly, at first I thought I might just be in a very traditional Japanese family with an anachronistic love of fishnets, but both my parents wore flak vests and hitai-ate, and talked about missions and the hokage and mentioned family names I recognised from the manga. Hatake, Aburame, Inuzuka, Yamanaka- a few I could have written off, but all of it together?

I didn't know what year it was, or where I was, plotwise, save for the fact that I had been born in Konoha, to a staunchly shinobi family, and that, when I grew up, I would be expected to carry on in the family business.

It's difficult, as a small child who had been a grown man, to accept that you're going to be raised as a killer. Hard to wrap your head around, when you still occasionally forget object permanence. Occasionally, I'd forget I had a mother, when she left my sight, but I still knew I was going to grow up a soldier.

Still, my sudden downturn in mood didn't go unnoticed by my parents. I'd gone from a fairly happy, average baby to a sullen toddler. I didn't want to play on the swings, or listen to my father read to me, or eat my lunch. I just wanted to lie down and sleep until the concept of being a ninja went away.

After a few days of this, my father took me to a doctor.

When the doctor found nothing wrong, he took me to a specialist.

The specialist said I had inherited my father's nature, and it might be distressing me, but my father had immediately dismissed that as a concept, and the specialist had shrugged. Maybe it was colic?

Still, when that didn't work, my mother took a day off and stayed at home with us.

This was remarkable, really. See, while my father was a tokubetsu jonin with a speciality in poison brewing, and essentially worked from home, or in collaboration with the Yamanaka and Nara, mother was a jonin in T&I.

She was a specialist in torture, not in the neat, genjutsu and mindgames way, but in the 'I-know-exactly-how-many-joints-I-can-remove-before-you-pass-out' kind of way. A bloody way. Which meant that even though both of them worked mostly in-village, I only saw mother at dinner, or on her rare rostered days off. So, when she took an unrostered day off, I was surprised out of my dark mood.

A child's brain isn't good at holding onto emotions for long periods of time. It's not designed for it. Emotional stability hasn't been programmed in yet, which means kids usually have epic meltdowns, and then are back to playing and laughing within the day. And, uh, not to drag myself, but I've never been good at it either. The longest I've ever spent focussed on an emotion was a week, when I was seventeen and freshly diagnosed, during which I cried a lot and watched the entirety of Avatar The Last Airbender.

So, as a small child, only three, my emotional permanence was even less developed, and just the fact that my mother was at home on a Thursday was enough of a shock to pull me out of my thoughts. As a grown man, that should probably be embarrassing, but I'm not, really, am I? Kids are wired different. They think differently. I can't assume I'm fully compos mentis, can I? Sure, I remember my education, the things I've learned through hard work, the lessons an adult goes through that makes them mature, but at their root, people are controlled by their bodies. And a kid's body just doesn't hold onto emotions the way an adult's might. Especially not when their parents are giving them attention and treats and playing with them.

And that's what mother was doing- she woke me up, got me dressed, made breakfast- all treats that were usually reserved for her RDOs, while father slumped around the kitchen moaning about how his son loved 'mama' more than 'papa'. She took me to the park, and we played on the swings, and the fact that she was there, pushing the swing, made the difference to my stupid little kid's body, and made me happy. It put the oncoming horrors out of my mind, because mother was there, and she was happy to be with me, and when she caught me in her arms and lifted me up, she smelled like weapon oil and blood and rose perfume.

Mothers, man. There's something special about them, even if you don't want to admit it. As someone who didn't have a great mother the first go around, I really didn't want to admit it, but this time? This time, she really tried to be good to me. She was called back to T&I early, due to an attempted breakout, but she tried. It made the difference. After that day, I found I couldn’t quite settle into the same black mood, much to my father’s relief. I still felt horror, I was still scared of my planned future, but I couldn’t stay that way for long, easily distracted by my father’s attentions, or mother’s singing, or the books that I was determined to learn to read. 

Language has always been my first love. I love the way it works, how such complex things can be described in smaller and smaller units of meaning, how different languages have different ways of creating that meaning, how words work, how they effect people and why. Japanese was not an entirely foreign language to me, even before I was raised in it, but my brain still wanted English structures, English concepts, and it revolted at the idea of three full alphabets to learn. Hiragana and katakana were fine, I already knew them, but kanji? Kanji were an effort I’d thought death would free me from, but no. No, even in death, I was going to have to figure out stroke order. It’s fine. As always, when confronted with something I didn’t really like, I decided to lean into it. Semantics. Phonetics. Kanji was going to be my key to accessing most of the knowledge in this world, if the manga was anything to go off, what with all the fancy calligraphy and punny names, so I was going to have to actually put some work in.

Not that much later, I learned what it was to be a Dokuso. See, my father was part of a very prestigious, very small lineage that would have died out in his generation, if he hadn't married mother. Mother was from a similar type of family, although I didn't learn that until later- not relevant, right now. We're talking about my father. Dokuso Shoto was a poisoner, but more than that, he came from a long line of poisoners, who had all ascribed to the theory of tolerance. For hundreds, if not thousands of years, the Dokuso had been poisoning themselves.

"It's called Toxicity," my father explained. I was sitting at the table, legs swinging beneath me, as he laid out a baker's dozen of syringes, followed by pots and pills, all clearly home made. "It's not really a bloodline limit," he continued, "but maybe in your children, or your grandchildren... who knows. See, Arashi, a long long time ago, a very smart lady found out that with some poisons, if you take a little, over and over again, when somebody tries to poison you with that toxin, it doesn't work."

I nodded, and he picked up the first of the syringes, gesturing for me to give him my arm. This wasn't the first time he'd done this- he'd started before I'd 'woken up', so to speak, and at this point it was natural for me to lay my forearm on his hand as he prepped the injection. He was businesslike, methodical, and kept telling the story as he injected me over and over with burning, itching chemicals. Not the basics- I'd been born immune to cyanide, strychnine, ricin and botulinum, and he'd been building my tolerance- to things that I knew, scientifically, you couldn't build a tolerance to- since I was a baby. I'd been a very sick, miserable baby, but now the shots just left me dazed and nauseous for the afternoon, recovered by dinner.

"And she taught her children that, and they taught their children, and so, the Dokuso have been living with poisons that would kill others for a very, very long time." My father always told the same story while he was giving me the poisons, in a kind of sing-song cadence that made me think it was traditional, measured out just like the snake venom he was injecting. He went on telling the story of Masako-obaa, how she had lived, bitten by a venomous snake, crawling on the earth for eight days before she made it back to the clan. How she'd learned to brew bitter almond tea, and drank it every day. How when the clan leader's whole table had been poisoned, she had been the only one still standing, because of her techniques, and how she had passed it down.

"You inherited that resistance, for basic toxins, and now, we're making you stronger."

"Is that why mother doesn't eat our food?" I asked innocently, despite knowing full well that most people don't season their tonkatsu with drain cleaner. The first time, I'd thought he was trying to kill me, but after I'd seen him eat it with no ill effect, I'd realised something.

I'd been born into the shinobi equivalent of the Addams family.

"Exactly! And that's why, when you go to the Academy, you don't share your bento, okay? No matter what the other kids say. You don't want to be responsible for hurting someone, right?" Father looked worried, and thinking back to just this morning, when he'd tipped a little jellyfish sting into my miso soup, to make the flavour sparkle, he was probably right to be. How many tiny Dokuso children had accidentally poisoned their classmates? How many had killed, just because they wanted to share?

"Right!"

* * *

Four was a busy year for me. It was when I realised that my technique for hiding my intelligence- which was doing literally nothing, actually. I had no technique. I just tried to do what my parents seemed to expect without being ridiculously over my age group- had been about as useful as I expected- which was not at all useful, because while I'm good with words, I'm not a good liar. Mother had one of her RDOs, and dressed me up in a slightly nicer version of my play clothes- a button up shirt, rather than a tee-shirt, and long trousers, instead of shorts covered in pockets- and took me over to a very big, very traditional looking house. It seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't say, other than being a bit like the houses I saw back in Kyoto and Nara, all sliding screens and raised porch. Mother was wearing a slightly nicer version of her T&I blacks, too, I realised. Rather than the tee-shirt she usually wore under her flak vest, she was wearing a silky black gi, the flak vest open over the top. She had red lipstick on her mouth rather than her usual bare face, too, and there was a pretty comb in her hair, decorated with images of running wolves.

"Are we meeting someone important?" I asked suspiciously, and she nodded, letting me down from her hip so we could walk the last bit, up the garden path, together.

"We're meeting your uncle," she said.

"Father doesn't have a brother," I said, and she raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh! You have a brother?"

"Mm, an older brother. We haven't spoken in... a while," she said, looking away at the traditional garden. It hadn't been cared for lately, grass growing long and pebbles scattered out of place, "but he has a son a little older than you, and I think you would be good friends."

"A cousin?" I asked, and she nodded, slipping off her sandals and helping me up onto the porch.

"A cousin, and an uncle," she said firmly. "We need more family, I think."

She knocked on the wood strut next to the sliding screen, and after a few minutes, frowned. She knocked again, but there was no response.

"Maybe they're out?" I suggested, and she shook her head, a few strands of silver hair falling from the comb in her hair.

"He doesn't go out anymore," she said, and I frowned. It felt oversized and childish on my face, and she looked down at me.

"Don't worry, Shi-kun, I'm sure my older brother is just being lazy. Let's go in and find him, okay?" she said, and slid the door aside easily. Inside was a traditional Japanese hall, the wood dusty and cold, and I held mother's hand tightly as we entered.

"Onii-sama?" she called out, but the air was still. Onii-sama, not onii-chan. Not even onii-san. Onii-sama. That was very formal. But I guess if they weren't close at all, maybe it made sense? It seemed like an old fashioned house, maybe it was an old fashioned family, like the Hyuuga, who all used very formal speech.

"Why haven't you spoken to him?" I whispered, and she shrugged.

"Adult things, Shi-kun, don't worry about it."

There was something dark staining the bottom of the door on the right, and as I saw it, mother's nostrils flared.

"Onii-sama! Shi-kun, wait here," she barked, and I froze in place as she darted for the door. "Onii-sama!"

* * *

He was very lucky that we visited, really. He'd only just attempted... well, what he'd attempted, and mother is very well trained in keeping people alive, even after they've lost a lot of blood, and would rather they weren't alive. I sat in the hallway outside his room at the hospital, legs swinging absently- my feet are so small, my legs so short, I'm nowhere near the 191cm I was in my last life, even though I'm tall for my age- and listened in on my parents hushed conversation.

"Dear, what were you thinking?" My father hissed, and I heard the fabric sound of mother's fancy sleeves moving.

"I was thinking that I should get the opinion of my brother about our genius son, what with him having one himself!"

"You know what the village thinks of him- you could have jeopardised your career- my career- Arashi's future- you have to think!"

"I was thinking! I was thinking about Arashi! Can't you tell? He's not just a normal kid-"

"He's fine, Aki-"

"He's smart! He's a genius, Shoto, and we aren't prepared for that! We weren't expecting it, but, just because he looks more like you than me, doesn't mean he isn't a Hatake as well as a Dokuso!"

I rocked back in my chair.

Mother was a Hatake?

I thought of her for a moment. Her silver hair that stuck up at the back (mine was more of a greyish green, like old moss), her pale skin like perfect porcelain (mine was sallow, yellowed by multiple childhood illnesses on top of my father's more olive cast), her sharp teeth (I'd got those), her incredible sense of smell (and that), her high rank despite her young age (not even as old as I'd been when I died, and I was hardly in charge of a whole military subdepartment), and, well.

Yeah, Hatake. Of course.

I'd been so distracted by my father's strangeness, I didn't even think that my mother might be weird too.

Also, since when did Sakumo have a sister? If he had a sister, why hadn't she taken in Kakashi after his death? Why was he alone?

"So, yes, I went to my brother," mother continued, "because he has raised a genius. His son is already an active ninja-"

"He's taking the exam and he's not even seven," father cut in, "that's... that's not what I want for Arashi."

"I know, darling," she said, and there was that cloth sound again, "but I want to support him, not hold him back. And Sakumo knows what to do with bored little boys who are already practicing their kanji at three."

I probably should have known that would give me away, but I've got a kanji focussed goal, and having a pair of first language tutors was nothing to turn down.

"I... yeah. Yes, you're right," father agreed, and there was a moment of silence, "and I'm glad you found Sakumo before anything permanent happened."

"So am I," she admitted, and I quickly turned back to looking at the wall as they came out of the room.

Kakashi... he must be a kid as well, I realised, putting my father's comment in context. Not even seven, already taking the exam... It must be Kakashi.

Well, that gave me a timeline at least. Even if it seemed awfully cruel of the universe to make me related to a dude I'd had a middle school bisexual awakening to.

It's fine.

"Shi-kun, we're going to go wait for your cousin at his house, to tell him what happened to his dad," Mother explained.

Tou-chan, she said. For a second, I thought I saw a wistful look on my father's face. I've not used that term with him, not since my one and only day of kindergarten, where the teacher had explained why everyone calls their parents by different terms.

Tou-san. Kaa-san.

Father. Mother.

"Should somebody wait with Uncle?" I asked, and father frowned for a moment.

"If you'd rather..."

"The nurses can supervise," mother said, nodding, and yeah, okay, she didn't treat me like a normal four year old. "I'm sure your Sakumo-ojisan would be very happy to wake up to you."

I nodded, and scampered into the hospital room.

Sakumo was lying still under blankets, a circle of paper around his wrist inscribed with seals. There were no monitors or clips on him, but a screen showed two lines, one his heart rate, the other a mystery. Still, his heart rate was steady, which seemed like it was probably good, and the other line was slowly increasing, which seemed to please mother, who nodded and smiled when she saw the readout.

"He probably won't wake up," father warned me, and I nodded. There was a stack of magazines and shitty paperbacks on the bottom shelf of the bedside table. I could entertain myself, if I needed to, and I always had my writing practice book on me, anyway.

"We'll be back soon, with your cousin," mother said, and hooked her arm through father's elbow, half pulling him away.

Sakumo's hand sat on top of the blanket, and I put my little chubby hand on his. He was more tanned than mother- we had a similar skin tone, I could tell, even if I was paler- and his hands were very large, callused like my parents'. After a while, I did get bored, and I took one of the books from the lower shelf, painstakingly reading and only stumbling over most of the kanji, rather than all of the kanji. After a while longer, I started reading aloud. Maybe it was like coma patients, and he could hear me? Maybe he would wake up to be freed from the third rate hospital drama I was reading aloud.

"Oh no, Akane-san, said Marimo, and r-ran all the way to the emergency. Something. Emergency something room. Inside, Akane was getting ready for her kidney something something. Kidney... the next one has a mound radical. Uh. Hill? Addition? Kidney adding something."

"Kidney Removal," said a croaky voice from next to me, and I startled.

Sakumo had, stealthily, opened his eyes and propped himself up, moving completely silently.

"Why does removal have a mound radical?" I asked, and he frowned.

"Sorry, kid, but do you know what happened? The last thing I remember is..."

He paled, and I dropped the book, quickly filling a glass of water and pressing it into his hands.

"Yes, I know. My mother saved your life, because you're her brother, and now her and father are waiting to see my cousin and bring him here," I rattled off, feeling awkward. This was, after all, the first time I'd really interacted with someone from the actual series, even if he was barely a background character, despite his importance.

"Your...mother?"

"Dokuso Akiko," I said, "or Hatake Akiko, I guess..."

"Aki-chan," Sakumo said slowly, a light dawning in his eyes, "why did she come over?"

I shrugged, despite knowing the answer. He used -chan for mother, so clearly they were close, but she had said onii-sama. That didn't add up.

"We were coming to visit my uncle for the first time so I could meet my cousin."

"Kakashi. Right. Of course, Kakashi." He looked up, finally actually seeing me, and I waved, "...Who are you?"

"Dokuso Arashi. It's written like Storm," I said, and he nodded, clearly not paying attention.

"Aki-chan's son."

I nodded, and he stared into the distance. I felt like I should interrupt, get him onto a different mental track- I'd spent enough time with enough depressed people to know that much.

"How do you write your name, oji-san?"

"Uh, using 'work' and 'stuff'." he said, not even noting that I'd called him uncle, and I nodded.

"I don't know 'work', can you write it for me?"

"I'm-"

"Please?"

I'm not one of those guys who cares about looking manly, and the universe- and my mother- had blessed me with big grey eyes that did the puppydog look very, very well. And Sakumo, well, he was a father, even if he was suicidal. With nowhere to turn away from me, he was easy prey for a wobbly lip and an upheld piece of paper.

So, when my parents, escorting Kakashi, came back, I was wedged into the bed next to Sakumo, getting him to write down random kanji as I thought of them, combining them into the silliest or most 'epic' names we could think of.

"Nobody is going to call their daughter 'but what clothes child', Arashi-kun."

"Nanimo Fukuko! That's a name!" I said, laughing, and Sakumo finally broke a smile, although it was small and clearly not impressed.

"Dad?" a small voice said from the doorway, and I looked up from my chicken scratch covered paper. Standing there, right in front of my eyes, was Kakashi. He was in his active duty gear, too small for standard blues or blacks, instead wearing a mishmash of black exercise clothes that fit his child's frame, a mask covering his face, and an oversized flak vest draped over his shoulders. Right. The chuunin exams had just finished. Kakashi was six, a freshly minted chuunin, and he would have come home to his father's cold, dead body.

"Kakashi!" Sakumo turned so quickly that I almost fell off the bed, but I caught myself and slid down onto my feet, making space for Kakashi to climb up if he wanted to.

Mother and father were hovering behind Kakashi, and I picked up my papers, heading over to them as Kakashi paused for a moment in the doorway before throwing himself forward.

"I made chuunin," he said, voice level, despite the way he buried his head in Sakumo's chest, fingers knitted in the hospital robe he was wearing. "I- are you- what were you thinking?!"

"I wanted to give you a chance," Sakumo said, and his voice was blank, like it was something he'd practiced saying many times before, "to remove the stain from the Hatake name, and let you make your own way in the world without my shame following you."

Kakashi went quiet, and my father looked down at me, picking me up and carrying me out of the room.

"Let's give them some time to resolve this," he said wisely, as my mother stormed past to her brother's bed.

"Idiot! Stupid older brother!"

"Yes, let's let them do dramatic, foolish Hatake things, and go be sensible Dokuso somewhere else," he continued, sliding the door shut on Sakumo's confused yelps and Kakashi's outraged yells.

"What do sensible Dokuso do?"

"Get icecream," father said, and I nodded.

"How do you write icecream with kanji?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Let's ask the icecream man, okay?"

"Okay!"


	2. Chapter 2

After a while, we were called back to the hospital room, where a thoughtful looking Sakumo was rubbing the red handprint off his cheek, and Kakashi was firmly installed next to him on the bed, cleaning his kunai and pretending that he wasn't pressed up against his father. He reminded me of a cat I'd had before, who didn't want you to know that he actually quite liked you, and so acted as though it was pure coincidence that put him within arm's reach, not anything so uncouth as having a positive emotion. My mother was smiling, arms tucked into her gi sleeves, and as father opened the door, she said, brightly, "So, anyway, you need to meet Shi-kun! He's my son, Kakashi-kun, and although he's a little younger, I'm sure you'll get on well."

Kakashi looked at me with the kind of disgust I usually saved for people who publicly vomit, and I blinked at him. Of course, pre-series Kakashi seemed to despise everyone except his father and Minato, so I was trying not to take it personally, but it still seemed a little mean. What would an actual four year old do?

Honestly, I had no clue. I'd never spent much time around children before, and now, my parents were pretty insular, without a lot of friends with kids, and they had taken me out of preschool after a single day of lessons.

So, I decided to do what I would do normally.

"Is that spelled like fire, or what?"

"Like scarecrow," he corrected me, squinting doubtfully over his mask.

"That's kind of cool," I allowed, and his squint got even more doubtful.

"He's your older cousin," mother said, and Sakumo nodded.

"So you should call me Sakumo-ojisan, and him Kakashi-nii-san," he continued. He looked a lot better, but I was pretty sure that he was putting up a brave front for his son. There was something in his eyes.

"Onii-san?" I looked at Kakashi, who managed to look even more displeased, despite the three square centimetres of face that was exposed. "Mm. I don't think he wants me to."

"He does," Sakumo said, with the fixed parental look that meant that if Kakashi didn't want to, he could damn well pretend to, because Sakumo wasn't going to allow anything else.

"Oji-san," I tried, and Sakumo smiled, a little brittle. "How do I write it?"

"You'll have plenty of time to ask, Shi-kun," mother said, "they're going to be staying with us for a while."

That made sense. You don't leave suicidal folks alone, and my mother probably felt a little responsible, considering she had been ignoring Sakumo just as much as the rest of the village. Still, our apartment wasn't... big. Kakashi and I would probably share my bedroom, and Sakumo would have the guest room, assuming my mother didn't have him on a futon in their bedroom to keep an eye on him.

I bent back to my book, carefully pretending not to listen in on the hushed voice argument that was going on. Kakashi didn't want to stay with a bunch of strangers, Sakumo was perfectly fine and didn't need watching, my mother just wanted to help while he was injured, my father was worried about having such a young child around all his active compounds, Kakashi wasn't a young child, he was an active duty shinobi, Sakumo wanted to know why I hadn't started the academy, my father believed that getting me up to speed on all my clan techniques before starting the academy was wiser, Kakashi wanted to know why I didn't know all my clan techniques already-

It was a mess, and it only got messier once the Hatake were settled into our house.

While I was four, and of the opinion that four year olds shouldn't be handling anything sharper than a blunted crayon, the world clearly didn't agree. My mother, who had to return to work the next morning, had clearly decided that what Sakumo needed, to brighten him up, was a project, and she had a perfectly good Hatake child sitting around, ready to be projected. My father, who had been forced to admit that I was adapting to Dokuso techniques fast enough that I could enrol in the next class of Academy students- in three months time- was sulky about it, but he had to admit, Sakumo did need something to do, now that Kakashi was doing his best impression of a teenager, seven years early- barely here, only appearing at meals to sullenly eat everything in sight before disappearing into our shared room and slamming the door. Apparently, that thing was getting me Academy ready.

"Alright, Arashi-kun, let’s start with stretches," Sakumo said. He was recovering from his wounds, slowly building back up himself, so he watched carefully, only joining in on the less difficult ones as he ran me through my paces. It was weird, being so flexible. My feet kept their balance easily, no nerve damage to be found, and my palms happily rested behind my feet when I bent over. My knees met my chest easily, my head touched my ankles, every way I moved, I felt like a rubber doll, and Sakumo looked genuinely pleased by the end of the stretching. He was less so by the end of the speed drills.

"Hatake are built light! We move with speed!" he barked from his seat on the deck as I tried to slalom through a set of cones, almost tripping over my feet, "agility! Lightning is our watchword!"

"What kanji do you use in watchword?" I asked, at the end of my latest run. I was clearly slower than he wanted, but at the same time, he was watching me with some surprise in his eyes. He ran me through the slaloms another dozen times, until I was panting, but there was still that surprise on his face.

"What is it?"

"Are you tired, Arashi-kun?"

I shook my head no, and he hummed thoughtfully.

"Dokuso don't go down so easily," my father said, coming out of his workshop and stripping off his gloves. He'd had to learn a lot more safety protocols, with a bunch of normal people in the house, and our tolerance training had moved into his strange smelling greenhouse. "We're built to keep going, Sakumo-san. We have to train speed, but we start off strong, and we keep on strong."

Sakumo nodded, and I blinked, looking down at my feet. I'd been sprinting, on and off, for almost half an hour, on top of what I would have called a fairly extreme yoga class, a bunch of accuracy exercises, and general fitness exercise, and yet, I felt fresh, like I'd just hit the high point of a gym workout, warmed up but not worn out.

"We will just have to train speed even harder, then," Sakumo said with a nod, and my father rolled his eyes.

"Not too long. Arashi, you have chores and tolerance today, too."

I nodded, and Sakumo leaned forward over his cane, eyes focussed on me.

“Again, Arashi-kun!”

As his project, I spent a lot of time with my uncle. Days were split into four sections: morning training with Sakumo, lunch and tolerance training and poison work with father, afternoon training with Sakumo, and my evening free to do as I wished. It was far more structured than my life had been until then, and I chafed under it a little, especially Sakumo's early wake ups.

Dawn.

He had me up at dawn. At four years old.

Surely that was some kind of child abuse, even in this world. Still, I couldn't stay asleep when he pulled my blankets off me and shook the futon, literally putting my bed away while I flailed sleepily on the floor.

"Up, up, Arashi-kun! A shinobi doesn't waste his time asleep!"

I was getting very sick of hearing what a shinobi did and did not do. It felt like every third sentence Sakumo said was about shinobi rule number whatever, the watchword of a Hatake, or the dos and don'ts of a good ninja.

"A shinobi must be flexible. Let's start with stretches."

"A Hatake is fast, Arashi-kun! Do the drill again!"

"Shinobi rule number 82: Precision is key. You're doing your exercise again, and we aren't stopping until you get six bullseyes in a row!"

"A shinobi must be alert. Do it again."

"A shinobi must be well mannered. Don't eat so quickly."

"A shinobi must be silent. We're doing that drill again."

"A Hatake is a perfect ninja. Again."

"A shinobi must be efficient. Less steps, this time."

"Again, Arashi-kun!"

"Again."

As somebody who's life plan had been to sit alone in a room writing code, only venturing out for tabletop roleplaying and the occasional anime binge, it was... a lot. I was never alone, I was tired, I was cranky, I was four years old and training into the ground, without the father worship that had probably carried Kakashi through this same routine.

As it was, I just stewed when I was with my father. I was sitting on the bench next to the delphiniums, leaning against the oleander planter, as he wheeled from beaker to beaker, still frowning at his nitrile gloves. As he was a Dokuso in the prime of his life, he was essentially immune to all poisons, but with the Hatake in the house, he was being careful not to accidentally carry any reagents into the living areas, actually following some rudimentary safety protocols for once.

"Shi-kun, you seem down," he said, picking up a pipette and drawing a deep yellow oil from one beaker. He dripped a single drop onto his finger and stuck it in his mouth. "Hmm. Taste this."

I held out my hand, and he dropped the same oil onto it. I licked it, and my tongue tingled pleasantly, like I had a mouth full of sherbet powder.

"Lily of the Valley?" I asked, and he nodded. "And... something else. How do I write Lily of the Valley?"

"Such a bright boy! It's Su, Zu, Ran. Like this," Father said, turning a bottle for me to see the label, and reached over to scruff up my hair. "It's a floral mix, to be disguised as a perfume."

"It doesn't smell like Lily of the Valley," I said, scrunching my nose, "it smells like roses."

"Exactly! Yamanaka-san and Inuzuka-san have been working with me on it. Can you guess why them?"

Father's little quizzes were far less challenging than Sakumo's rules. He liked to pose questions that required shinobi knowledge- particularly with poisons and village politics- but never outright phrased it as a lesson, and I had to admit, it worked on me well. I've always been a curious guy, and if there's anything that gets me working, it's a challenge. If anything, I find it hard not to answer too quickly, or use information I shouldn't have. I am... intensely competitive.

"Yamanaka...." I said slowly, tapping my heels against the cabinets, "they have a flower shop, so they can get you non-poisonous flowers to copy the smells."

Father nodded, pushing his wheeled stool across the floor to the refrigeration cabinet.

"And Inuzuka... they have the best noses because of their dogs. So Inuzuka-san can tell you if they can smell the poison."

"Exactly! Ah, such a smart kid. You get it all from me. Unless your mother is in hearing range, in which case you get it all from her, okay?"

"Okay," I said, swinging my legs as he retrieved a set of vials, bringing them back over to the counter.

"Arashi," he said, and I looked up. He rarely used my full name, both my parents preferring the cutesy 'Shi-kun'. "You're not having a good day, are you?"

"I'm tired," I said, as father began to dip needles in each of the vials, and the heavy perfume of floral toxins filled the air, "and Sakumo-jisan is..."

How to phrase it. I live in a ninja society- mean isn't a complaint you can make about a trainer, and unfair is equally laughable.

"Sakumo-jisan is..." my father repeated, as he rucked my shirt up so he could reach my shoulders.

"he's helping too much," I said, working with my child's vocabulary. The only good thing about having to learn the language again was that while I had a few words that most children wouldn't, the majority of my vocabulary was from my parents and the words they used. Which was good, on the one hand, because their child wasn't going around talking about the ephemeral quality of mother's perfume, but on the other hand, lead to some deep, deep frustration. You know that feeling when you know there's a word for something, but you can't remember what that word is?

Imagine having that feeling constantly.

It's amazing I wasn't more of a little shit than I already was when it came to learning words.

"What do you mean, helping too much," father asked, slightly muffled by the shirt over my head, as he began scratching me lightly with the different poisons.

This was the second stage of Dokuso tolerance training, apparently. The main poisons - the bases from which specialities are built from- had been introduced earlier, through direct injection or pills, and now it was time to narrow my focus, learn to reject more specialised poisons, and build my own blood toxicity so that poisoned blades wouldn't stop me. The final stage would be gases, but father said that would wait until I was six, to be sure my lungs were developed enough, and then I would be immune to any poison that any Dokuso had ever run across in the last several hundred years.

So, essentially immune to poison.

"I'm not Kakashi," I said grumpily, as my muscles locked up. Ah, a paralytic. I tried to concentrate on breathing, and father rubbed my back, skating over the bumps of my spine with one massive, warm hand.

"Kakashi-niisan," he corrected me, and I hummed.

"He doesn't like it when I call him that."

"Well, he can get over it. You're his little cousin."

"Sakumo-jisan acts like I'm just Kakashi-niisan again, and I'm not Kakashi-niisan, I'm Arashi."

Father hummed, scratching me with the next needle. It felt a little like an allergy test, the barely there flicker of sensation, the waiting, the reaction, but it wasn't the same. There was no doctor, no medication, just my father and his cramped little greenhouse that was so saturated with poison that nobody but us could come in without a mask.

"You're the one and only Dokuso Arashi," my father agreed, and my shirt went back down, although he continued to rub my back as my eyes clouded over with dark dots. "Which is exactly what we want from you, Shi-kun. To be yourself."

That night, after dinner (curry, father's and mine flavoured with earthy apricot pits, while mother and the Hatake ate theirs plain) I crouched in the darkness by the door, and overheard another argument. Kakashi was sitting on his futon, busy practicing his writing- BAKUDAN over and over on pieces of thin rice paper- having already cleaned and maintained the rest of his kit. He rolled his eyes at me, but didn't comment, focussing on his brushwork, and I smiled at him in thanks.

"-he isn't going to be ready for the Academy if you spoil him!" Oji-san sounded frustrated, and I was a little frustrated with myself for getting distracted watching Kakashi do maintenance, rather than immediately pasting myself to the door to listen in.

"He will. He's smart, and he's been working himself to the bone for you, Sakumo-san, but you aren't working with him!" my father sounded frustrated too- maybe this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation?

"Darling, I'm sure nii-sama has thought this through-"

"Arashi isn't Kakashi! He needs different training. He's not as fast, he's not as-"

"Not as what?"

"He's got my build, dear, not yours, is all I'm saying. He needs different techniques. He'll have at least 30 centimetres on Kakashi, when he's grown, he doesn't need to close so much. Let him be Arashi, is all I'm saying!"

"Sakumo-nii, you did an assessment, right?"

"I-"

"You didn't just put my son through the training you gave your child, did you?"

"Children need similar training. Maybe he will grow to look like Shoto-kun, but right now? Right now he and Kakashi are almost identical."

Kakashi and I looked at each other- he was clearly distasteful, while I was just unbelieving.

See, Kishimoto had drawn Kakashi as a very strange looking child, more of a miniature adult than a child, with teenage proportions, the only difference in his big eyes, but in reality... he really looked like that. Kakashi had long, graceful limbs that looked strange and coltish on him, too big for his body, which was growing more slowly. His eyes were massive, lined with sooty grey lashes that made him look his actual age, but his cheeks lacked baby fat, and his mask only made it look stranger.

There was nothing wrong with how he looked, but it wasn't the look of a normal human child. Instead, it was more like how a puppy looks different to a grown dog- just scaled down, with a few proportions different.

I was pretty sure I didn't look like that. Sure, I'd recently had a growth spurt that had father tutting and buying new clothes, but it wasn't that severe. Surely, it wasn't that weird.

I made up my mind to take a really good look in the mirror tomorrow, when I had the light.

"They may look alike, Sakumo-nii, but Arashi is a different boy!"

"I'm going to sit in on training tomorrow. Maybe a different eye will help. We can try and combine some different techniques, give Arashi a grounding from both his families."

"Fine, but I think you'll find that it's a waste of your time."

"Well, it's my time to waste," father said cheerfully, and that was it.

The next day, when Sakumo came to wake me up, father was there too, wearing his blues without the flak vest, going through all the exercises with me without complaint. There were adjustments he made, which made things easier, usually with some glib comment about how the Hatake clan had no elbows, and us mortals had to twist a little further to the left to get the same effect, or similar.

Sakumo, who had seemed irritated at the start of the morning, was clearly surprised by how quickly I improved with my father's help, and at the end of the session, he knocked a friendly shoulder against my father's, and they both seemed happier over lunch, before father sheperded me away to try out some snake venoms from Sand.

I was ecstatic: with father there, Sakumo didn't spend the whole four hours talking about the shinobi ideal. Mostly because every time he tried, father rolled his eyes and made a sarcastic comment like the one trouble making student in the back of class, and I started laughing.

Time passes quickly when you're very young, and before I knew it, it was the day of my first Academy class. Mother had begged, borrowed, and threatened so she could have it as a day off, and she and father had spent hours agonising over what to do, when to drop me off, what to pack in my bento, what I should wear, all kinds of things that I had very little opinion on. Other than the clothes. I have a lot of opinions about clothes.

Still, it's not like they sell standard uniforms in four year old size, even if I was large for my age, and I ended up in a similar mish-mash of black athletic gear to the style Kakashi wore. As I stood in the hall, mother and father had a quick eyebrow conversation, all in facial expressions, and mother knelt down next to me.

"Shi-kun, I wanted to offer you something. It's traditional in my family, you see, to wear a mask when acting as a shinobi. You've seen the masks that Sakumo-oji and Kakashi-nii wear when they leave the house?"

I nodded.

"I wear one too, when I'm at work," she said, and I blinked. I'd never seen her wear a mask, but then, as a T&I specialist, I'd never seen her at work, thankfully. I might be far more blase about violence and blood than I had been before, but I draw the line at ripping people apart by the cartilege.

"And I know that you're a Dokuso, and I love you very much, I love your clan and your dad's heritage, but I thought you might want something from your mum's side, too."

And she held out something that looked like a long black sock.

"It's a mask?"

"Mm, just like the one I wear," Sakumo said, from his position on the couch. He was still recovering, his torso healing slowly from the deep cuts he had inflicted, but was watching with eagle eyes as I got ready to leave.

I do not have the self control to say no to wearing a literal ninja mask.

"I'll do it," I decided, reaching out, and mother pulled it down over my head so it was bunched around my neck like a turtleneck.

"I'll get you some shirts like Kakashi's," she said, "but for now, you can use some separated ones, okay?"

I nodded, and she tugged the mask up, settling it over my nose. There was a moment of silence, and then-

"Oh no, he's adorable," my father said solemnly, "we need a photo! A family photo! Sakumo-san, take the photo for us!"

Our camera was an old fashioned thing, with a big flash bulb, but I smiled obediently as mother and father crouched down beside me, both doing peace signs and smiling big enough that their eyes disappeared into creases.

"Okay, okay! Let's get moving, we can't be late!" Mother clapped, and father squatted down so I could climb on his back. With that, we were off, dashing across the roofs as we made our way to the Academy.

I feel like it should have been more remarkable. The first day of ninja school. My first introduction to the larger village, beyond my sullen cousin and injured uncle and my father's very occasional visits to his fellow specialists that I tagged along for, but really, it was... school.

I filed into a classroom with twenty two other students, put my lunch in a cubby assigned to me at the back, and sat at a desk. Our teacher was a chuunin by the name of Fujioka Satoshi, and he started us with basic shinobi conduct. It was... boring. I stared at the blackboard blankly for the first fifteen minutes, intent on being a good student, but before long, I was writing out every word I knew in my notebook. I wrote in English, in French, Japanese, other, less useful languages. But hey, turns out I remember all my runes from my single year of historical linguistics. I wrote lyrics to songs I liked, I wrote people's names, I wrote... the occasional note, but this was all stuff that mother and father had taught me when I was literally still in the cradle.

After an hour or so of this, Satoshi-sensei roused everyone and took us out to the training ground, where he did something a little like Sakumo's first evaluation of me. We did push-ups and sit-ups, pull-ups and sprints and slaloms and simple hand-eye coordination games, tossing beanbags at targets.

Have you ever had that feeling where you thought you were really bad at something, and then someone else shows you how good they are at that same thing, and you realise that actually, you're pretty good at it?

That was how my first day at the Academy felt.

Everyone else was slower, sillier.... admittedly better at concentrating... but all in all, when father came to pick me up, he was pulled aside by Satoshi-sensei, and there was a hurried conversation.

"Shi-kun!" he finally greeted me, and I looked up from the dictionary I was looking at. It didn't even have kanji in it, I just wanted more words, frustrated by my incredibly limited vocabulary. "Satoshi-sensei says you did very well today, and I was wondering if you could show me what you've done? He's set everything up, you just need to show me."

This was... obviously a test. If I didn't want to be marked as genius, I needed to fail it. I could stay in class with the five year olds around me, go through several years of mind numbing boredom, and graduate at eleven, like everyone else. Just six years. Six years of learning at home, and sleeping through class.

Holy shit, how did Shikamaru do it? Wasn't he bored?

I did not have the self-control to do six years of hard time with a bunch of kids.

I did the test.

The next day, they moved me up a year, to a group of six year olds taught by Youko-sensei.

At the end of the week, she pulled father aside for a hurried conversation.

"Shi-kun! Youko-sensei says you did very well today!"

Seven year olds, taught by Akihiro-sensei.

"Shi-kun! Akihiro-sensei says-"

Eight year olds, taught by Mai-sensei.

"Shi-kun! Mai-sensei-"

Nine year olds.

"Shi-kun, sensei-"

Ten year olds.

"Shi-kun!"

Eleven year olds.

My father pulled me aside. I was due to turn five at the end of the month, and the week after that was the graduation exam for my class. Well, I say 'my' class. My rapid rise through the classes hadn't been missed by the kids I was with, and as with all kids, things that were different were either amazing, or to be avoided.

Kakashi, who had done a similar meteoric rise, had been amazing to them. He had also been incredibly rude, and completely ruined it for me. When a second scruffy, mask wearing child had appeared, pushing past kids who had already been snubbed once?

Well, let's just say that father hadn't needed to be worried about my sharing food with the other kids. I spent my breaks alone, eating one handed as I poured over library books.

Nostalgic.

I'd done exactly the same thing in my last childhood, although not because I was a genius. I was just a deeply unpleasant child, and I'd been alone because of it. This time, it felt less personal. These kids didn't hate me because I corrected them in class and read massive books. They hated me because I was younger than them, better than them, and bored. 

God, I was so bored.

"Kakashi-niisan?"

"Don't call me that," Kakashi grouched. It was evening, and he'd tumbled in after a day of duty with his sensei- Minato, who I knew by reputation, although I'd never met him- and was beginning his evening maintenance.

"Kakashi-niichan?" I corrected, and Kakashi actually groaned.

"No. What is it, Arashi?"

He got so angry about me using the wrong honorific, and he didn't even use one! Rude!

"What did you do in the Academy?"

"I trained and studied," he said automatically, as he began to unroll his ninja wire to examine it for weak spots and break points.

"No you didn't," I said, and he actually looked up at me. I could point out on my fingers the number of times he'd done that, in the last six months of living with each other. "You can't train independently, and all the classes go too slowly to study properly. What did you actually do?"

Kakashi was... was he actually smiling? His mouth was tweaked up in one corner, and I felt like I was witnessing something special. It wasn't a real smile, more the sick, stunted mutant child of a smile, something that wouldn't survive outside an intensive care unit, but it was smile like! Maybe more of a smirk?

"I showed them that there was no point in me being in class, and they had to let me graduate early."

"How did you do that?"

"Dad taught me a special technique," he said, smugly rolling up his wire. "and my teacher recognised it."

I waited, as he finished stropping his kunai to sharpness, and then struck.

"Could you teach me a special technique, so I'm not stuck at the Academy?"

"What's in it for me?" Kakashi asked, voice lazy, and I felt like I was looking into the future, the fully grown troll of an adult superimposed over Kakashi's super-efficient pre-teen self.

"I'll smoke all your blades," I immediately offered. 

Kakashi hated the hot, smelly work of darkening all his edges after they'd been sharpened. You had to sit over a fire for ages, carefully turning them so that there wasn't a single bright part showing through the smokey metal, and then wait for them to cool before covering them with a protective sealant. It was hot, sweaty, uncomfortable work, and it had to be done every week. I... didn't mind too much, beyond the smoke making me cough a little, but it was a good excuse to hunker down at the end of the apartment building's shared gardens, to bring a book and not be disturbed as I tried to puzzle out a language that approached its writing in a very foreign manner.

"Really? That's what you're offering?"

"This time, yeah," I nodded solemnly, hopping up off the couch and joining him at the table. "I'll figure out something else for next time."

"You think there'll be a next time?"

"I hate being bored."

Kakashi looked me over again, and for a moment, I felt like he was actually looking at me, rather than just seeing an irritating little cousin. He was evaluating me as another person, rather than an obstacle.

I... used to have an older brother. We had got on well, when we were both little, but when he hit his teens, I became an irritation, something to be put up with, rather than a friend. It had taken until he reached his twenties to re-evaluate me, to decide that he'd actually been right the first time around, and I was worth his time.

The look in Kakashi's eyes... It made me think of my older brother.

"I'll take that deal," he said, taking his newly sharpened kunai and stowing it in one of his pouches. "Go get your practice gear, we'll use the training yard at the end of the street."

Tell you what? I practically fucking teleported to my gear and back.

Kakashi rolled his eyes, but it looked a little more tolerant, and pulled his mask back up over his jaw. I followed his example, and we set out into the fading afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

So, Kakashi didn't really like me, but he put up with me. He was willing to accept bribes in return for training, and I was lucky enough that the chores he didn't like, I didn't mind, and the things he wanted to teach me were advanced enough to feel almost impossible, at first. While Sakumo and father challenged me, Kakashi didn't pull his punches. He showed me a technique, did it once, slowly, and then expected me to do it. I tended to hesitate, the first few times, afraid of not landing it properly, but his brusque, almost insulting instruction made me determined not to let him beat me.

Which was stupid, because I was a pre-genin, and he was a chuunin, but damned if I didn't try harder because of it.

He showed me chakra control exercises, and I breezed through them easily.

He showed me how to throw shuriken in flights, using the shadow to cover the path of another weapon, and I almost cut off a finger.

He showed me his own personal twists on the Basic Three: a body-switch that let you switch with something far smaller than most targets. A henge that copied scent as well as sight, based on Hatake-sharp senses, and... a clone that ran a tiny bit of elemental chakra through it, so it would shock when it dispelled. My clone... melted some of the training ground with a horrific biohazard. (We moved training grounds, after that, out into the general use fields)

He showed me how to track, channelling chakra to my nose and ears to amplify their input, and I gave myself a nosebleed.

He showed me a basic lightning jutsu that created a small paralysing shock, and I set fire to a tree.

He showed me some more chakra control exercises.

* * *

Three weeks until the exam, and I spent every day doing Kakashi's chores in return for extra instruction. I got up early to train with Sakumo-jisan and father, went to the Academy, where they were focussing on chakra techniques and revision, pop-quizzes that I practically slept through, and then ran home to do whatever I had promised Kakashi (cleaning the bathroom, doing his laundry, sharpening his kunai, rewrapping his wire, smoking his blades) before he got home, whereupon I would make a new bargain and chivvy him out the door to teach me something cool.

I swear, this body, this brain, they're better quality than my last one. The brain absorbs everything, spits back information I've heard once, and my learning curve is insane. Admittedly, I was never a slow learner, but I had very little impulse that made me do anything, and this time around, I don't want to stop. Maybe it's the lack of chronic pain, the joy in the ease of movement, but the body is a hell of a thing too. It's like I was limping around on a broken razor scooter, and I've been given a top of the line motorcycle.

"You don't know tree climbing," Kakashi said, sounding scathing, but I knew it was a question, so I shook my head.

"You don't mean with my hands, do you?"

"It's a basic skill," Kakashi continued, ignoring me. "Channel chakra to base of your feet, match your output to irregularities in the tree's surface, and simply-"

He made a Ram sign, just for show, and stepped easily onto the tree, gravity losing its hold on him.

"Oh, man," I said, fully aware that my eyes were shining, staring up at Kakashi, who walked easily up to the top branch and took a seat.

"I'll wait up here for you," he said, and reclined back against the trunk, watching me lazily. It was strange how cat like he was, for a guy so associated with dogs. "You'll probably take a while."

Any proper shounen protagonist would froth at that, but I took insults as encouragement. I set my jaw, moving up to the base of the tree and putting my hands into Ram, to help me concentrate. Then, I focussed my chakra.

As I said before, I think this body is big cheats. I'm playing this life on easy mode, with all the selective breeding of my clans doing the hard work. I've seen other people struggle at things that seem easy to me, not just in this life, but in the last one, too. Apparently, reading Shakespeare is not meant to be easy when you're a kid. But then, in my last life, I'd had the experience of struggling at things others found easy, too. Like, say, standing up for long periods of time. Walking, sometimes. The occasional day where leaving my bed was impossible without help. This time? This time, everything was easy. I could see how someone might end up an arrogant little toerag, if they had no idea what it was like to struggle at something for longer than a few days. Still, there were a few areas where I needed improvement, and chakra control was one of them.

See, Hatake chakra is small, but incredibly precise. Kakashi's starting point was a bit like Sakura's, with perfect control and small reserves, which he then trained up with hard work. Dokuso chakra is... eager. One of the tenets of tolerance is to keep your chakra circulating constantly, raising your metabolism to help break down compounds quickly and efficiently, then informing the body that these compounds could be absorbed for energy. As such, Dokuso were constantly moving chakra, and the effect was similar to wearing weights at all times, inside our chakra coils. we built our reserves big, and when we actively moved our chakra somewhere else, it tended to be a bit like connecting a fire hose- we didn’t know our own strength.

As such, it wasn't a huge surprise when, a few feet up the trunk, I was blown back with a noise like a gun shot.

"Less chakra," Kakashi called out helpfully, and I growled from where I was sprawled on the ground below.

I tried again, and my foot peeled away from the tree.

"More chakra," Kakashi said.

I tried again.

Again.

Again.

"Hm, what's this," Kakashi said thoughtfully, pulling a notebook from his stupid tiny flak jacket. "I wonder what secrets my cousin is hiding?"

"That's mine!" I called, fists balling up on automatic. It... could have been worse. It wasn't one of the notebooks I'd written in English, with my encoded knowledge of the series, at least. It was, however, the one I'd written all my memory of poetry, songs, and stories, with stumbling translations. I really didn't want Kakashi to read some My Chemical Romance lyrics and think I'd come up with them.

"Come get it, then," he said, picking up the book and flipping to a random page. "Oh, poetry! I didn't know you had a romantic soul. What secrets can I find... Do you have a crush?"

I gritted my teeth, charging at the tree again. Monitoring my chakra output, even through my feet, shouldn't have been difficult. The leaf exercise, when I'd first been introduced to it, had been easy. Mother had crowed about how I'd inherited her control, and father had sulked about it for a full day. Through the feet, though? It was like trying to do a puzzle in the dark, while wearing socks on your hands. You could kind of get the shapes, but the colours were a loss, and picking up the pieces was more difficult than it was worth. 

"Hm, let's see. I'll read this one- Drops of...Jupiter? Like the planet?" He looked down at me, red faced and struggling up the trunk on my hands and knees, a faint corona of sickly grey chakra surrounding my limbs, and continued.

Oh, how I regretted writing down every song I could remember.

"Oh, with chord notation as well- it's not a poem, it's a song!"

How I regretted learning that song, back when I was just starting guitar.

"Now that she is back in the air- no, atmosphere-, with drops of Jupiter in her hair, she acts like summer and walks like rain, it reminds me that there is time to change- you know, your rhymes aren't too bad, for a kid."

That song charted, Kakashi! What do you know about award winning pop songs, huh? You’re an assassin, not a musician!

I struggled up another few feet, half my mind of regulating my chakra flow, half my mind on Kakashi as he flipped through the book.

"Oji-chan and Oba-chan never said you knew an instrument. How well rounded!"

"I'm gonna round your face," I mumbled, scrabbling to my feet. I was only a metre or so off from Kakashi's perch, and he laughed at me without moving his face.

"Oh, Tear In My Heart? I think I found out that little Arashi-chan does have a crush!" He sing-songed, holding up the book again. I jumped neatly onto the branch, and snagged the notebook.

He clearly let me. A well rested chuunin lets a tired pre-genin do anything a tired pre-genin manages to do, really.

"It's not- It's not about anyone," I huffed, stuffing the notebook into my pocket. "It's just... ideas."

"Sure.” He flapped a hand dismissively, “Let me know if you do ever get a crush, though."

"Why?"

"So I can send her condolence flowers," he said dryly, and jumped off the branch, landing neatly at the base of the tree. I followed easily- he'd hammered falling safely into me well before he let me try climbing.

"What about you, Kakashi-niisan? Do you have any crushes?"

"I'm seven," he said. His birthday had gone by a few weeks ago, and he kept bringing it up. "and never ask me about my personal life."

"I'm your cousin, I am  _ in _ your personal life."

"You're  _ a _ cousin. Maybe. I'm not convinced you aren't adopted." Kakashi said, turning on his foot and leaving the training ground. I quickly stooped and picked up my discarded pouches, having decided not to try climbing and falling while carrying sharp blades.

"We look the same! If I'm adopted, you're adopted!" I said hotly, trotting at his heels as he headed back towards the apartment. He took the long way, winding along through the market on the way back.

"Maybe that's why obachan picked you," he said thoughtfully, "because you looked like me. That would make sense."

"Nobody would want their child to look like you," I said, "you have an ugly nose."

"We have the same nose. You're only insulting yourself."

"I carry it with dignity, you carry it badly." I said, turning my very dignified nose up as we turned onto the main thoroughfare. It was almost dinnertime, and the stores and restaurants were putting out savoury smells that made my stomach rumble.

"How do you know the word dignity, huh?"

"I'm a precocious reader," I said solemnly, then smiled at him sweetly. "Do you not know it? I can define it for you."

"Brat!" He smacked the back of my head, and I wanted to stick my tongue out. The mask made that impractical though, so I just whined comedically as we passed through a steam cloud that smelled of miso and chicken.

"Onii-san, don't be mean!"

"Mean isn't a word a shinobi should know," he scoffed, and I pushed him. He barely moved, stance too perfect, but the effect came across.

It took until we got back home, sitting on the step as we took our sandals off, to realise that he'd forgotten to correct me when I called him onii-san.

Obviously, I graduated.

That sounds self involved, but, I mean, I was getting personal tutoring from both The White Fang and the future Copy-Nin, not to mention my father, who, as a tokubetsu jonin, was nothing to turn your nose up at. I was working with a brain that was at least a factor of ten better than my original, I had twenty seven years of experience even before you stacked on my new four, and most importantly, I was really damn sick of school.

So, yeah, I graduated.

Accuracy was easy, with all the throwing drills at Sakumo-ji and father had me do. My father, in particular, lived for senbon drills, and I had evolved to accept this. 

Sparring was a little more challenging- sensei matched me up against an Uchiha in our class, a prodigy in her own right, and yeah, she had me on the ropes for a while, but I'd been sparring with Kakashi. She went down.

Problem solving? Easy enough, it was just using your best judgement and repeating some propaganda.

Codebreaking? I... Okay, I have to admit something. I have a degree in linguistics. A degree and a half in linguistics, with a specialistion in computational linguistics and cryptography. Codebreaking was a hobby of mine, and I made cyphers for fun. It's fun, working not just with letters, but with syllables, with discrete units of meaning, trying to break them up and hide them in a way that someone else could theoretically reconstruct. For extra credit, we could create a cypher, and the harder it was to break, the more extra points we'd get. I translated the target phrase into English, and ran it through a pigpen cypher. Good luck with that, sensei, I thought, snickering, as I turned over my paper.

Wilderness Survival? Easy, when you can eat anything without ill effect.

History? I'm bad at dates, but thankfully, so was Kishimoto, because everything was done by major event, rather than any particular year system, and that I could manage.

Poisons? Sensei looked at me, and back at the clipboard, and gave me a perfect score.

Finally, the jutsu. I got transformation, and turned into the guy who worked at the ice cream place father and I went to.

"Perfect score, Arashi-kun," Kaito-sensei said, handing over my hitati-ate. "Don't forget, you need to get your ID photo taken tomorrow at the tower, and then report back here on Monday morning for team assignments."

I nodded solemnly, taking the plated headband, and suddenly realised.

It was way too big for me. God, I'm four years old and according to Konoha law, I'm an adult.

What the fuck.

What's going to happen now? Do I get a master, like Kakashi did? Are they going to put me on a team? Am I going to go bugnuts mad like Itachi did when they try and make me into an assassin before I even hit double digits? I frowned as I walked out of the classroom, passing a line of expectant students- my name, starting with Do, had put me only fourth in line, after my seat neighbour, Akimichi Chobara. Chobara had also passed, I saw, as he ran into his parents arms, waving his hitai-ate above his head like a banner.

Mother had work, and father had an important meeting with Nara-sama about a new medication he thought may be able to get out of a Suna rattlesnake venom, so I wasn't expecting anyone to be waiting for me when I left the Academy, but as I entered the assembly area in front of the building, I noticed that quite a few of the parents were whispering, looking in the same direction with unsubtle gazes. It was a bit like how I imagined they would look at Naruto, in the future, and I followed their stares curiously. There was a tall man leaning on the fence, with scruffy silver hair he had tied back into a spiky ponytail, a battle scarred flak vest over standard blacks, and a sword at his side.

"Sakumo-jisan!" I ran at him, and he leaned down to scruff up my hair. I'd never seen him leave the apartment building, not since he'd moved from the hospital, and he looked ill at ease, even under his friendly smile. I have to admit, I hadn't thought about Sakumo's future. He was my uncle, a feature in the backyard, a cheater at cards, and unnaturally fond of sardines, but that was about it. Obviously, things had changed the day my mother had saved his life- he wasn't old, only in his early thirties, and he had a whole life to live. He wasn't going to spend the entirety of it on our couch. But I hadn't thought about it. Seeing him out and about made it clear- Sakumo was his own, fully fledged person, and he was going to be doing things, changing things, and I didn’t know what that would mean. I paused for a second, and he froze, looking around at all the unhappy faces, but I didn’t pull away. 

"Oji-san, I passed!" I showed him the hitai-ate, still clenched in one hand, and he leaned down, picking me up and propping me up on his hip. I happily clamped on, and he used one arm to support me, while the other took the hitai-ate to admire it. It was on the standard blue bandana, and I wanted to put it on black- mother would help me, she had promised- but it was still mine, and that was pretty remarkable. It didn't feel like one of those flimsy ones that cosplayers wore, but was instead made of a matte grey that wouldn't catch the light. It was hard, curved slightly to fit the shape of a forehead, and long enough to cover the forehead almost entirely. It was held to the fabric by some kind of clamp mechanism that needed to be unscrewed to release it, and the fabric itself was thick, but breathable. The Konoha leaf was inscribed with care, clearly done by hand, and on the underside of the plate, my ID number was carved. Like dogtags, in case I was killed in such a way they could no longer identify me, I realised, a chill running up my spine.

"Ah, I never doubted you, Arashi-kun," Sakumo said, smiling down at me. "Shall we go home?"

The Academy was a ten minute walk, at the pace of a four year old. By shinobi methods, it was a single shunshin away, or a two minute run, if you felt lazy. Sakumo had probably been outside, on the streets, longer than he had been in the last year or so, considering when the disastrous mission had occurred.

There was a war on, and ninety eight percent of the population thought it was my uncle's fault. I shivered, but shook my head.

"Treats first!"

When I said treats, what I was actually talking about was kakigori. It was shaved ice, doused in different syrups of all kinds of flavours, and it was perfect for the weather- long, hot days of syrupy orange sunshine, so warm that you started to sweat through your shirt before you even woke up.

"Oji-san, why is it pronounced -gori when it's the mizu character?" I asked, trying to distract Sakumo from the eyes on us as we sat down with our dessert. I had lychee, he had strawberry, and I was fully prepared to talk words until we either finished our kakigori, or he told me to shut up.

"It's the other reading of the kanji," he said absently, taking a spoonful of ice. He was a master of the eating-without-moving-your-mask technique, a little not-jutsu that had been passed down through the Hatake line. Which explained why it had been so impossible for Kakashi's team to get a look at his face. I was still mastering it, taking large bites of ice between the blinks of the people around us.

"Other reading?"

"You know about onyomi and kunyomi reading?"

"Ah, I know it exists?" I said, and he hummed. “It’s like, each character has two ways of being said, and you can pick which you use for your name.”

"Pretty much, although it’s not just names. But that’s a good example! Like how your name could be said Arashi, or it could be said Ran."

"Ehh?" I blinked, a little stunned. "What could Sakumo-jisan be?"

"Ah... Tsukumono."

"Ehhh?! A ghost? Tool-ghost-jisan?" I spluttered, "That's silly!"

"I like Sakumo better," he said, laughing a little bit at my overacting. He definitely seemed distracted, so I kept him on topic.

"What about Kakashi-niisan? What could he be?"

"Hm. Well, he has a three character name," Sakumo said, drawing out the kanji on the table using the beading condensation. "First would be... An. Then, Yama. Finally, Ko."

"Anyamako? Guiding mountain child... Ojisan, is that would you would have called him if he was a girl? Anyamako-neesan..."

"No," Sakumo said, very surely, and I laughed again. "Ah, Arashi-kun, you really like words, don't you?"

"Mm!" I nodded hastily, and he hummed.

"Do you like crytography, at the Academy?"

"I do, but they don't do anything fun," I said. Ninja seemed to be working off, at their most complex, a rotation cypher. Not even a book code, or a Caesar cypher. Pigpen was unheard of, and that was before you even started looking at more complex stuff!

"It can be pretty slow, for a young man like yourself," Sakumo agreed wisely, and I slouched in my seat.

"Not slow, just boring. Nobody does anything new! It's just rotations, and always in the same way!" I explained, and Sakumo hummed and nodded. He didn't ask anymore about it, and I went back to asking about names.

"Oh, oji-san! Do mother!"

The next day, father took me to get my photo taken for my ID card, and we bought the clothes I would wear for active training- exactly the same as my Academy clothes, but with the addition of my mask being sewn into a tee-shirt, and a layer of fishnet armour under the shirt. That sorted, he made some excuses to mother, Sakumo-jisan, and Kakashi-niisan, and took me into the workroom.

"I didn't think I'd have to do this for a while," he said, closing the door behind us and turning to me. Then, as if from nowhere, he pulled out a thigh pouch- one of the flat, wider kinds, like the ones used for kunai, and offered it to me. "But, it's traditional. You've graduated, and so early!"

"Thank you?" I half asked, accepting the pouch. It was strangely heavy, and when I opened it, I found a set of heavy sponges separated by some kind of barrier, each stuck with a set of senbon. The sponges took up most of the space, which explained why the senbon were in such a large pouch. With five sponges, each with some thirty senbon, it held a full armoury. "What are the sponges for?"

"Ah, that's the special part of this gift!" My father said, and spread a hand at the greenhouse, with its strange, dried animals, flourishing plants, and jars of mysterious poisons. "Each one of those sponges can be imbued with a poison that will stay fresh for a month!"

"A month?"

"It's a clan technique, I'll show you how it works," he said, flapping a hand, "but it's up to you to decide what you want to take with you on missions. Fatal doses? Paralytics? Sleeping toxins? You are an artist, now, Arashi-kun. It's time to decide your pallette."

I blinked.

"Is this why you always made me drill senbon more than kunai?"

"If you know poison, you don't need kunai," father said, rolling his eyes. "Leave blood loss to those who can't find a more elegant way of taking someone down."

I nodded slowly, looking over all my options. I was a genin, and a little squeamish, so my first thought was paralytics and sedatives, but...

There was a war on. This wasn't the canon era, where genin spent their time walking dogs and painting walls. Genin did scouting missions and supply runs. They brought messages to the front, returned prisoners to Konoha, and generally did what I thought of as C-ranks. D-ranks were reserved for the freshest of the fresh- new teams learning how to work together, and the injured. I had to be prepared for combat, straight out the gate.

So I went straight for the venoms. Box Jellyfish from Wave, Death Stalker from Suna, Cone Snail from Mist. That's three sections done, easily. All with different base toxins, but ones I was well used to- if I scratched myself, I'd get the hiccups, but that was about it. Still, if an enemy had a broad spectrum antivenin, they might get one, but they wouldn't be covered for all three. An old classic- cyanide. Painful, but relatively fast acting- anywhere from instantaneous to overnight, it was one of the most speedy plant based toxins. Also, one of my favourite salad toppings. For the final wedge, I picked out one of my father's creations- a vegetative oil that would send someone to sleep within three minutes with just a scratch. More than five senbon, though, and I'd be threatening a coma. Naturally, my father had ensured that I was immune. It made me a little sleepy, but no more than herbal tea, or warm milk.

"What do you think?" I asked, lining up the five vials in front of me on the counter.

"I think..." he looked at the venoms, then back at me, and there was some sadness in his eyes.

"You're a very practical young man," he said, and rolled a stool over for me to sit on, "Now, have you done any fuuinjutsu in class?"

"Explosion seal activation," I said, perking up a little.

Fuuinjutsu was interesting, in the same way cryptography was. In the same way coding, and translating, and semantic problem sets were. A challenging kind of interesting. It was about teasing meaning out of something complex and confusing, arranging everything into neat sets. We hadn't been allowed to do much more than practice smoke tag activations, but watching my chakra race along the lines of ink, the way each kanji line would light up, radical by radical, before transforming into perfect meaning... It was something that wasn't boring. In the Academy! Who would have thought?

"Well, this is like an item seal," he explained, "except we're putting a condition- if the sponge touching it grows dry, the seal opens, and the liquid inside is released. We're going to glue the sponge to the seal, so it doesn't accidentally detect anything else, and then enter the poison through the reverse side."

He was painting as he explained, pointing out the different parts of the seal, what the different kanji were for as he went.

"Once the seal is set, we imbue it with chakra," he set his hand on the seal, and murky green chakra- the same colour as mine, stained by toxins- filtered into the seal, until it lit up brightly and faded to black. "And then apply the sponge. Do you want to try?"

"Yes!" I said, scrambling up onto my knees to reach the counter better, and my father passed over his brush. Or, it wasn't a brush. It was made of glass, narrowed at one end like a pen, but solid like a brush.

"Our chakra usually interacts badly with organic material," my father explained, "and you need to imbue the ink with your chakra. The glass pen means you won't disintegrate your seal before you finish setting it."

"What about the paper?"

He shrugged, "It doesn't effect it, but I don't know why."

I hummed thoughtfully, and dipped the pen into the ink, beginning to channel my chakra. My father watched carefully as I copied the design, and when I finished setting it, he beamed.

"Shi-kun! That's so good. I was twelve when I learned this, and you're doing much better than I did!"

"I think I just spend a lot of time practicing," I deflected, and he scruffed up my hair.

"Well, let's do another three, and then we'll prime them with poison. Oh, my boy's growing up so quickly!"

Everyone kept saying that, but was it really such a good thing?

Later, in the darkness, Kakashi turned to look at me. The moonlight was silvering the curve of his profile, limning his nose and cheek- no mystery anymore, as my mother had a strict 'no masks in the house when it's just family' rule, and as Sakumo obeyed, Kakashi couldn't object. Our futon, as always, were pressed up next to each other, my night time water bottle on the wooden floor by my head, Kakashi's go bag next to his. Still, he never moved when he slept, trained by missions, so when he turned, I startled, a light sleeper myself.

"Hey, Arashi."

"Onii-san?" I murmured, blinking sleep out of my eyes, and he reached over, into his go bag, pulling something out.

"Congratulations on graduating. Maybe you aren't as useless as I thought-"

"If I'm useless, it's your fault, you're the one who trains me-"

"Strong words for someone who wants to /keep/ training with me,"

"I mean, I love you, cousin?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he snorted, and I fumbled with the dark package he'd thrown onto my lap. It was fabric, something dark and thick, with a texture like raw silk, boxy and sharp.

"What is it?"

"Armour, so you don't die," he said, and turned over, facing away from me. "Don't die."

"Okay..." I said sleepily, and draped the armour over my blankets as another layer.

In the morning, it was revealed- a vest, like a sleeveless michiyuki, with little ties along one side of the chest. It was made of a dark teal material, distinctive enough to be recognisable, but dark enough for stealth, and on the back, embroidery- a cream coloured mon, left empty for me to fill when I decided what I wanted. And, on the inside of the collar, just over the nape of my neck, where nobody but I would see it? A henohenomoheji. Like the ones Kakashi put on his  _ dogs. _

_ _ It was impossible for my cousin to just do a nice thing, wasn’t it? If I didn’t wear it, mother would get mad at me for ‘rejecting his thoughtful gift’, and if I did, I was marked like one of his summons. Like he was my  _ boss _ .

But it was too practical not to wear! Cloth armour was expensive, imbued with chakra that would harden at the point of impact when attacked, to shield the wearer, and it wasn’t the sort of thing I could afford to not accept. If I got stabbed by an angry rocknin, and Kakashi’s dumb michiyuki could have saved me, I’d feel like a damn fool.

For approximately three minutes, before I finished bleeding out.

I wore the damn michiyuki.


	4. Chapter 4

Team Assignment Day during war time was different to Team Assignment Day in peace time. Where Naruto's class was split into neat, three person teams, mine was splintered up to reinforce current teams fractured by the war. The only new three man teams were made up of clan kids, politics keeping them safely in village for a few months before they went out to the front. I wondered, briefly, if the only reason team Minato had formed was because it had both a Hatake and an Uchiha on it. It would make sense, and also explain why Rin was so happy to be on it- it was that or some timebomb of a team, half torn apart by the war.

As someone who had been added to class at the last minute, from a minor clan that nobody cared about, I didn't get the luxury of a new team. Our assignments were alphabetical, and I didn't have to wait long to know where I was going.

"Aoi Sumiko- you'll be joining Team One, under Nara Shikakuro. Report to training ground twenty one."

The pale faced girl, a civilian born who flourished in taijutsu, nodded gravely and stood.

"Akamiro Idate- you'll be joining Team Eighteen, under Takamatsu Shiho."

Only one more before me, and I smiled at him. He wasn't going to have any problems, I was more than sure. Which was… good, I was surprised to realise. Sure, we’d never been friends, but we’d been friendly, and Choubara was a soft, sweet kind of guy. He deserved a good start, the kind that his clan could provide for him. He was a decent dude. The kind who gave tips when you were struggling, and shared his snacks. Because my class was made up of idiots, he wasn’t the most popular, but he was definitely the most genuine of our cohort. 

"Akimichi Choubara, Uchiha Keiko, Kurama Shuuichi, you will be Team Nine, under Michitake Koumo."

Ah, the benefits of being part of a noble clan. I knew it. I smiled at Choubara, who was looking around for his new team mates. 

"Dokuso Arashi- you'll be joining Team Twenty One, under Uchiha Rei. Report to training ground seven." My seat neighbour, Choubara, darted a concerned look at me, but I just nodded, rising from my seat. Team twenty one... So, one of the more recent combinations. Genin teams rarely inflated out to more than thirteen teams total, but with the war, there were more active shinobi, fewer settling in the corps.

"Good luck!" Choubara hissed at me, and I nodded at him, smiling so my eyes squinched shut- it seemed to be the only body language anyone could pick up, wearing my mask, except for those in my immediate family.

"Good luck to you, too," I said to him, as his new team mates moved to sit with him, Keiko sliding into my seat and refusing to look me in the eyes. Apparently she was still sour about our exam match.

Well, no time to waste.

I roof-ran to training ground seven, bouncing over tiles and vaulting chimneys easily- I had to restrain myself from calling out ‘parkour!’ every time I had the opportunity to do a back flip as part of my route- and made good time. It was familiar, one of Kakashi's preferred tutoring sites, but when I landed on the store next to the entry way, it looked different in the morning light. Firstly, there was a huddle of three people- one older, two younger- in the centre, and there were an array of weapons scattered on the ground, all centred around one of the figures- he was clearly putting all his gear away, and it was a hell of a lot of gear.

"Ah," said the older woman, looking up from her students as I lightly dropped onto the grass a few metres away. She rose elegantly, putting her hands in her pockets as she turned, but her two students- one older, maybe seventeen, the other twelve or thirteen- remained squatting.

"I'm Uchiha Rei," she said, inclining her head. She had the typical dark Uchiha hair, but it was cut short, into a pixie cut that flattered her sharply angled face, and she was wearing standard shinobi blacks with her flak jacket, the only sign of her clan a discreet Uchiha fan on her shoulder. Her eyes were a deep garnet, rather than pure black, and I swallowed hard as she met my gaze. "Jonin, with a specialisation in capture and retrieval. This my squad."

She waved a hand, and the boy nodded. He had dark hair, tied back in a short tail, tanned skin and dark eyes- he looked almost generic, in a very purposeful way, and he raised a hand at me in a casual wave. He wore dark clothes with no identifying marks, but his smile was pleasant enough. He was also incredibly heavily armed- I counted at least six weapons pouches, and that was just what I could see. Even when he waved, I could see that under his shirt, his arms were wrapped in bandages to hold extra concealed holsters in place.

"Morino Ibiki. Capture and long range combat."

Ibiki?! Exam proctor Ibiki? Here? I blinked, turning to my other teammate, and hoped she wasn’t also a secret canon character. I didn’t recognise her, but then, I hadn’t recognised Ibiki.

The girl, who had blond hair slicked back from her face, save for a single lock that fell in her eyes, nodded to me. She was squatting on the ground, picking at the dirt with a kunai. Her clothes were slightly more interesting than Ibiki's- she had a chuunin's flak vest, but she was wearing it open, showing a white cheongsam style shirt with an empty red circle over her chest, and practical dark trousers. Unlike Ibiki- and that threw me, honestly, even though I knew he was around the right age... He wasn't a trench coat wearing, scar toting badass. He was.... kind of adorable, honestly, in a so-heavily-armed-he-probably-jingles-when-he-walks kind of way. Shinobi adorable- she seemed almost unarmed, no obvious weapon pouches, and her short sleeves left nowhere to conceal them.

"Takara Mebuki. Interrogation and short range combat."

"Mebuki-chan is my apprentice," Rei said, and the two teenagers stood up, "my second in command. Ibiki-kun is progressing well, too, and I expect him to take the chuunin exam in the next year's cycle."

Ibiki flushed slightly, rocking on his heels, and I blinked.

"And you are?" Rei prompted.

"Dokuso Arashi. Please take care of me." I introduced myself, trying not to talk too much and seem childish.

I mean, I was a child. I was four. Four and an active combatant, seriously, what the HELL was wrong with this place.

"Specialities?"

"Uh. I'm not too sure, yet?" I said, and Rei flapped a hand dismissively.

"Arashi-kun is a great get for our team," she said, "he comes from a long line of poison specialists, and his cryptography exam results were remarkable," she leaned in, and said lowly, like it was a secret, "I hear that Nara-sama is still attempting to decrypt his cypher example. Usually, he finishes all the crypto-attempts within his lunchbreak, but Arashi-kun's has kept him up all night!"

I smiled nervously as the two older teens turned to look at me, eyes evaluating me from tip to toe, dusty sandals to floppy grey-green hair.

I was fully aware of what they were seeing- I'd taken the time with our bathroom mirror, after Sakumo said I looked exactly like Kakashi, and had come to the horrified conclusion that he was almost right. 

Things that were the same: the mask, the grey eyes (too big for my face), the pointy chin, high bridged nose, cheekbones, and general body shape. Even my hair looked kind of like Kakashi's- a dull greyish-greenish-white, like lichen, shaggy and pointy like Kakashi's style but flopped over on top, I looked like Kakashi after he'd fallen into a pond full of algae. I mean, I carried it off, but it wasn't a naturally enviable look. People didn't really go for swamp chic. Me? I could make it work. 

At least my skin tone was different to my cousin- I'd inherited father's olive undertones, although I wasn't as dark as him thanks to mother's paper pale skin. Now that I wasn't spending all my time inside, though, I'd tanned to a healthy brown rather than staying a sallow yellow.

Other differences? Not much. I could have been his bog-dipped brother, rather than a cousin.

All that, in a body that was stretched out taller than any four year old should be, forehead protector around my throat because it literally wouldn't fit my head, father's gift strapped to one thigh...

I smiled hopefully, eyes squinching shut so they could see it, and raised a hand in hello.

There was a moment's pause, as they sized me up, and I took a deep breath, fully prepared for another installment of 'everyone-ignores-Arashi-outside-necessary-work' game, but then, Mebuki smiled at me.

"Ah, another interrogation specialist! We should talk toxins, later," she said, and she seemed genuinely interested.

"Sure," I said slowly.

"I look forward to working with you," Ibiki said, with a firm nod, which I returned.

"Ah, rookie, can you believe it?" Mebuki asked, throwing an arm around Ibiki's shoulders, "You're a senpai now! No longer the lowest rank on the team!"

I tilted my head to one side, and Rei smiled.

"We're lucky enough that you're replacing a promotion, Arashi-kun, rather than a casualty. Just two weeks ago, Naito-kun decided to take a promotion to the hospital." Rei explained. "He was our poison and tracking specialist, so your graduation timing was a bit of a windfall, honestly."

"What kanji are used in windfall?" I asked automatically, and Ibiki frowned. I winced. Ah, here comes my reputation as the weird word kid. Again. That's three times, in two childhoods. Surely I should have learned by now.

This is fine.

"It's Tana as in shelf, right?" Ibiki asked, turning to Mebuki, who nodded.

"Tana like shelf, and bata in kana," she said, bending down to draw the characters in the dirt with her kunai. Ibiki and I both craned over her shoulders to look at the characters, and I hummed thoughtfully.

"Cryptos," Rei said, shaking her head. "Now, let's not get distracted," she clapped her hands, and we turned to look at her. "We have two weeks in village, to get Arashi-kun settled in the team, but after that, we're back in the field. That means training, and it means-"

"D-ranks," the two older teens chorused.

"Ah. Sorry."

"We all did them," Rei brushed me off, "more importantly, it means a chance to rest up, recover, and talk about our feelings with our code mandated therapists!"

"Ah, sensei, do we have to?" Mebuki whined, and Rei nodded seriously.

"A good shinobi is balanced in all things. Balanced diet, balanced exercise routine, and balanced mind! Yamanaka-sensei has kindly made time in his schedule, and I expect you both to take advantage. Arashi-kun, you're excused this time, but on our next return to the village, you'd better talk to him too!"

Oh, great. Because what I really want is a Yamanaka examining my mindset closely on a regular basis. There's no way that could end badly.

Why did I have the only well-balanced Uchiha in the timeline leading my team? If it was any other member of that clan, they'd be telling us to go repress our problems and train more.

I could totally repress my problems and train more.

But no. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

This is fine. It's going to be fine.

I probably had a month before my first session, if we had two weeks before our first out of village mission. That was plenty of time to come up with a strategy that would pass the experienced eye of a Yamanaka psychologist.

Totally fine.

Rei-sensei ran us through our paces, starting with the same evaluation that Sakumo-jisan and my various Academy teachers had used, before progressing to more complex skill assessments. Her face was impossible to read, but Ibiki and Mebuki were less well guarded, and I could tell they were a little impressed by my performance. I mean, I was still obviously a fresh genin, but I'd like to think I wasn't too shabby, for my rank.

There was no team test, and I wasn't sure if I was grateful for that, or not. I'd like to think I would be able to pass it, but at the same time, the day had been stressful enough already.

At about eight, just as the sun was going down- Konoha had long summer days, with an extreme, sustained heat but a constantly cold wind, which my body found deeply confusing- Rei waved goodbye to us, and Mebuki- senpai, she'd made very clear. I was to address her only as Mebuki-senpai, or just senpai- walked Ibiki and I back to the main square.

"I'm meeting my boyfriend there, anyway," she said dismissively, "I might as well walk you as well."

Ibiki shrugged, "She does this every time we're in village, it's pretty annoying-"

"It's not annoying! It's true love!" Mebuki snapped, hitting Ibiki on the back of the head with a closed fist.

God, she reminded me of someone, but I couldn't pin who it was. Not someone I knew...

I frowned, and Mebuki waved across the marketplace at someone.

"Alright, kids, scram! Senpai's got a date!"

"You're always on a date. As soon as we sign in, you're on a date," Ibiki grouched, but he moved on quickly enough, leaving Mebuki to wait for her boyfriend at the dango stand. "Anyway, you didn't do badly, for a first day."

"Thanks, Ibiki-senpai," I said, and he grinned.

"Ibiki-senpai. Yeah. Yeah, you're cool, Arashi. You can stay."

"I dread to think what you would have told his teacher, otherwise," a cool voice broke in from behind, and we wheeled around to see Kakashi there, hands in pockets, eyes lazily disapproving as he stared at my team mate. "Sorry, sensei, I've decided not to take on the prodigy. He's not cool."

"Hatake Kakashi," Ibiki said slowly, eyes flickering from him to me and back, "don't tell me you child geniuses all know each other?"

"He's my little cousin," Kakashi said with a sniff, and Ibiki's jaw dropped a little. Clearly he learned dissembling later in life. Maybe when he picked up the cool trench coat. "And he's late for dinner."

"I'm not late," I said, shaking my head, "you're early."

"Don't make excuses. Shinobi are never late," Kakashi said, clearly quoting his father, and I hissed at him.

"Shinobi aren't meant to spend an entire hour in the shower every morning, either, but you manage."

"Just because oba-san has to literally wrestle you into the bathtub doesn't mean the rest of us can't be hygienic."

"You're not hygienic, you're a pain!"

"Hurry up and say goodbye, brat," Kakashi ground out, and I pulled a face that I knew Ibiki would miss, and Kakashi would be able to read through the mask. He sighed heavily, and I spun to Ibiki, bowing slightly.

"Sorry, senpai. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Ibiki said, clearly a little at a loss from Kakashi and I's interplay. "Be at the training ground at nine o'clock sharp."

I agreed, and Kakashi leapt back to the roofs, clearly expecting me to follow.

I did, but not because he wanted me to. It was just the fastest way back to the apartment, and he'd already made a path, so I didn't have to trace my own.

When we arrived back at the apartment, Kakashi paused before opening the front door, not looking at me. I kicked him in the shin, just to remind him I was still there, and he didn't even wince.

"Onii-san! Hurry up!"

"So. How were team assignments?" He asked, hands in his pockets as he stood, stone-like, between me and my dinner.

"Fine." I said, trying to dodge past him, and he paused for a moment before rolling his eyes.

"If you have any problems, don't come whining to me about it," he sniffed, and opened the door, stepping inside to slip off his sandals.

"I wouldn't," I said, copying him. "I'm an adult, you know."

"You're four."

"Konoha says I'm an adult."

"Anyway, good. I don't want to hear about it," he said shortly, peeling his mask down to sit like a turtleneck around his throat. I copied him again, and sniffed.

"It sounds like you want me to tell you."

"Well, you're hearing wrong. Amazing, your sensei already ruined all my hard work trying to get you up to an unembarrassing level."

"Take that back, Rei-sensei is awesome!"

Rei-sensei had won my allegiance with some actual coaching on tree-climbing. It had not been a difficult battle, considering the only nice thing Kakashi had ever done for me was not stealing my notebooks again after the first time. That's right. Not even doing a nice thing, just not doing something mean a second time.

"Minato-sensei is awesome," Kakashi corrected me, "your sensei is, eh. Fine, I guess. She can't mess you up too badly, considering you don't know anything anyway."

"Boys, dinner is getting cold," my father called, as I sputtered, mouth open as I launched towards my cousin- I'd run out of comebacks, and the next obvious stage was biting.

...I am not a witty man.

Kakashi strode past me, taking a seat at the table, and I huffed out an angry sigh, following him and falling into my seat.

"So, tell us about your new team," mother said brightly, as we tore into the yakisoba on the table- a special treat, to celebrate my team assignment- and father passed me a salt shaker full of silvery crystals under the table. I sprinkled it clandestinely, hiding it in one of the pockets in my michiyuki, and father winked as I began to eat with even more gusto.

There was just something so moreish about cyanide.

Regular humans didn't know what they were missing out on. Mother just sighed, and Sakumo hid a laugh in his hand at the interplay.

"We're a retrieval and information gathering team," I hedged, playing with my noodles, and mother hummed encouragingly.

"and capture as well, I guess. You might know my sensei? Uchiha Rei?"

"Oh, Rei-san! She's one of our delivery guys," mother said, clearly happy to recognise her, "very professional, very efficient. You'll learn so much from her!"

"Uchiha Rei... She gets strychnine, once a month, like clockwork," father said, brow creasing in thought, "she has a genin come to pick it up, Naito-kun."

"He left the team, that's what gave me the opening," I said, and the adults at the table all hummed thoughtfully. "What? Is that weird?"

"Oh, no. It means she must be very good at her job, that you aren't replacing a casualty."

"Minato-sensei is very good at his job," Kakashi said, mouth full of noodles.

"No, of course he is, Kakashi-kun," my mother said, flapping a hand dismissively, and Kakashi's mouth turned to a perfect bracket of displeasure. He looked like a sad emoji, but nothing above his nose moved- clearly his dissembling had all been practiced while wearing his mask.

"He's one of the most talented jonin in the village," he said, slightly more loudly.

"Ah, but the most talented jonin in the village is sitting at this table," my father said, and Kakashi frowned, turning to look at his father even as my mother blushed. "darling-"

"Dear, please, the children are present-"

"Dad, are you stronger than sensei?"

"Ah, your oji-chan was talking to your oba-chan, not me," Sakumo demurred, and Kakashi frowned more deeply.

"But, are you? Because you haven't trained properly in months, and Minato-sensei trains with me every day."

Sakumo coughed awkwardly, looking away towards my parents, but there was no help there. Father had mother's hand clasped between his palms, and was staring lovingly into her eyes.

Gross. I mean, theoretically, I remember romance and stuff, and it was good that they had a healthy relationship that could deal with disagreements and communicated their love so easily. But they were still my parents, so...

Gross.

"I can't help it, darling, I'm moved by your workflow efficiency-"

"Dearest, please, we're eating-"

I ate my noodles quietly. Sometimes, it was very obvious that Kakashi was a child. He asked inconvenient questions, and missed subtext when it wasn't mission related. He couldn't see that his dad wanted nothing less than to discuss jonin strength rankings, and so, I helpfully added to the chaos.

"Oji-san, what your favourite cypher?"

The table went quiet for a second, as the sudden topic change appeared.

"Ah, probably one based off the Wisteria poem. You know it?"

"The one on the scroll in the hall?"

Sitting in a little niche in the hall was a piece of fancy calligraphy, decorated with an ink painting of the droopy purple blossoms.

"Exactly. I actually gave that scroll to my little sister, when she got married. It's by a friend of mine who does very special calligraphy," Sakumo explained. "The poem is simple, so it makes for an easily memorised code phrase. Then, you take the first word of each phrase: Haru, iri-tokoro, fuji, and use those words for a substitution cypher."

I nodded, letting him explain it, but inside, I felt like screaming.

Substitution cyphers are simple. They're one step up from a rotational cypher. With a rotational cypher, you move every letter a certain number of steps: for example, 'the' becomes 'gur', if you move everything thirteen steps. That's one of the basic cyphers- Rot13, or a thirteen step rotational cypher. The next step up involves a substitution, where instead of moving your code along a simple alphabet string, you instead list your code at the beginning, and then the remaining alphabet. So, instead of 'ABCDE', if your substitution is 'LEAF', you would go 'LEAFBCDG'. No A, no E, because they were in your code word.

I hope that makes sense.

Anyway, Sakumo's cypher was probably considered very secure here, but honestly, it just kind of cute to me. A nine letter codeword was a good start, but it just wasn't enough to actually stop any kind of serious cryptologist. Codes just hadn't progressed, because computing wasn't a real science here, and that meant encryption wasn't, either. It was... frustrating, to realise that half of my life's work was completely irrelevant.

"Oh, that's cool! I like that one, oji-san, let's use that between us if we write letters!"

"Ah, it might be a little complex for you, Arashi-kun," Sakumo smiled, and leaned over to ruffle my hair. People kept doing that, and I really don't know why- maybe it's perfect stylish disarray makes them want to actually put it in disarray? Either way, my cryptology degree, my ego, and my swampwater look, which I spend a good twenty minutes on every day, did not appreciate the interaction.

So I ate some more noodles, letting them spill out over my chin like tentacles, and pretended that I was the King Squid Summon, Cthulhu, here to destroy my cousin.

He did not appreciate the interaction.

After dinner, the adults gathered us in the sitting area of the main room, sitting Kakashi and I down in front of them. I felt a bit like I was at a job interview, and from the look on Kakashi's face, he felt a bit like he was facing the ninja equivalent of the same. The mission desk? Something like that, probably.

"Kids, we wanted to talk with you, now you're both adults," my father said, and I know I keep harping on about it, but I am not an adult. My brain thinks it is an adult, and I /still/ want a nap every afternoon and throw occasional tantrums when I don't get the things I want. I don't even mean to, there's just... not a lot of control, here. If I was an actual four year old, I'd be busy declaring that every day is Dango Day, and my bedtime is never.

"It's about your oji-san, and you, Kakashi-kun," my mother picked up. "About you living with us."

"Are you kicking us out?" Kakashi asked flatly, because even with a whole lot less trauma, he is apparently just naturally dramatic.

"No, no, not at all," my father said, holding up his hands. "We would never! You're family!"

"Hm. Sounds unlikely," Kakashi said, crossing his arms, and I loyally piped up.

"If you kick oji-san out, I'm going with him."

"What about Kakashi-kun?"

"Ehh... if oji-san gets to stay..."

And Kakashi hit me, and I bit him, and ten minutes later, we were back in our same places in front of the couch, now separated by the coffee table so we couldn't reach each other.

"What we are trying to say," Sakumo said, shaking his head, "is that this apartment is small for a family with four active ninjas."

He wasn't counting himself. I tried not to frown too obviously, but Kakashi clearly wasn't pleased either.

"I'm still recovering," he said, at our reactions, "but anyway, it's not practical staying here."

"Are we moving?" I asked, and mother piped up.

"Perhaps! We were thinking, there's a perfectly good clan estate sitting just on the edge of town, with training grounds and plenty of space for everyone to have their own bedrooms. What do you think?"

"The Hatake estate?" Kakashi asked, raising an eyebrow, and Sakumo paled, shaking his head.

"Not... not yet, Kakashi. No, the other side of the family."

"There's a Dokuso clan estate?!" I asked, rocking forward and slamming my hands on the table, "And nobody told me?!"

"You're four, Arashi, we've only had so much time to tell you things," my father said with a shrug. "But you've been there before."

"I have?! And nobody told me?!"

"You probably shouldn't have to be told when you go to your own house, you know," Kakashi said.

"It's the poison garden," my father said, and I blinked. That made sense. We went to the poison garden every few weeks, doing garden maintenance that I foud incredibly boring and sweaty, but afterwards, father always showed me some new toxin, and bought me icecream. Now I thought about it, there was a house in there somewhere, wasn't there? We just never went in.

"Admittedly, we'll have to do some trimming of the beds, so that it's safe for the rest of us to get in and out, but it's a good space, it's not far from the Hatake house, if things change there..." he trailed off, and Sakumo took a deep breath. "Anyway, we'll probably have to pay for a mission to help clear the less deadly stuff, but Arashi, we can do most of it ourselves."

"A D-rank?" Kakashi asked, "are they even accepting those right now?"

"Oh, no," father laughed. "Not even!" He sobered suddenly. "It's a B-rank."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's a Dokuso garden, Kakashi-kun," mother said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "it's a security system, basically. We can't touch half of those without falling into horrific paralytic fits. And those are the friendly ones."

"I apologised about that, dear," my father said, looking ashamed.

"Not the best start to a first date," she said tartly, and Sakumo looked troubled.

"Anyway. What do you two think? We could schedule the move as soon as the mission clears, so next week?"

"I mean, I guess it's fine," Kakashi said, shrugging.

"Yes!" I yelled.

There was a little scattered talk of practicalities, but it was pretty much decided: we were going.

We were moving into my very own 1313 Cemetary Lane.

I wonder if it came with a Lurch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like what you see, please leave a comment! Let me know what you you'd like to see, or alternatively, what you would prefer gets skimmed over. I'm very happy to take suggestions, but be aware, I won't write it if I don't like it.


	5. Chapter 5

The next two weeks were busy, but repetitive. Rei-sensei preferred a slightly later start, which I appreciated, but worked us hard, and I usually stumbled home long after dark, ready to fall unconscious the moment I sat down.

I couldn't, because I had to do things like eat, and wash, and maintain my gear- Kakashi, naturally perfect shinobi that he was, was able to do his maintenance in half the time I took, and would then watch me with lazily judging eyes while he did hand flexibility exercises- but God, I really wanted to.

Every day, Sensei started us with a three hour run through the trees around Konoha. We left through the gate, signing out with the chuunin on duty, and ran great, looping courses through the Hashirama trees. Ibiki and Mebuki kept up with her more easily, but I still had to actively concentrate on keeping my chakra output steady, and my tiny little legs just couldn't launch me as far as them. That was just the start, however- first, we ran. Then, while we were running, Rei-sensei would give us specific instructions and maneuvers to follow- usually in hand signals, so I had to switch from concentrating on my pathing to paying attention to her while still making sure I didn't get stuck without a next jump, or running into a branch.

Again.

Then, for verisimilitude, Rei-sensei assigned Mebuki to act as an enemy nin, harassing Ibiki and I with thrown weapons as she instructed us.

Then, Rei-sensei  _ and _ Mebuki were enemies, and Ibiki was injured dead weight for me to carry.

Then, it was lunch time.

"You're better than I would have expected from a greenie," Mebuki said cheerfully, helping me pick senbon out of my michiyuki. As promised, it had hardened to stop the weapons before they could reach skin. "You've got good stamina."

"Thanks," I said, "I blame my uncle."

"Don't you mean thank?" Ibiki asked, as he sat down next to us. We were sitting in the chuunin resting area, just outside the gates. It was safe enough to rest in, looked over by the gate guards, but meant we didn't have to go through full entry protocols just for a water break.

I thought back to Sakumo-jisan yelling at me to do more windsprints, and shook my head.

"Still, you didn't even get scratched once," Mebuki said, "that's some good dodging, you know. I'm not a thrown weapons specialist, but I'm still a chuunin- I'm not an easy opponent."

"Oh, I got scratched," I said, lifting my hand so she could see the mark. The senbon weren't blunted- sharp enough to scratch, or even pierce- but Mebuki had been careful, and there was only a faint, easily healed mark, like a cat scratch.

"But these are coated in knock-out juice," Mebuki blinked, looking at the scratch, and then at the senbon I was holding. "That was part two of the drill- for Ibiki to have to carry you while I harassed him."

"Thanks, senpai," Ibiki said dryly, and took the senbon from me. "Maybe you forgot to coat this one?"

"Oh, no, Arashi-kun's just special," Rei-sensei said, putting down a plastic bag between us. The take-out containers inside were hot, a plume of steam escaping into the air, "didn't I say? He's a poison expert."

"Yeah, so?" Mebuki asked, splitting up the bowls.

After a quick game of jan-ken-pon, I had the udon, while Mebuki ate chirashizushi, and Ibiki started on his katsu curry, victorious. Sensei, who was happily eating her own oyakodon, hummed.

"Right, neither of you have worked with specialist clans before, have you?"

"Naito-kun was an Inuzuka," Ibiki said, and Mebuki nodded. "Doesn't that count?"

"Kind of. Inuzuka need a few extra considerations, but it's not a matter of safety, the way it can be with other clans," Rei-sensei explained. "Groups like the Aburame, the Yamanaka, even the Uchiha- we all have particular ways of doing things, and sometimes, if you try and do what we can do, you will get hurt."

"What clan are you from, greenie?" Mebuki asked, and I mumbled around my noodles.

"I've never heard of the Dokuso," Ibiki said. "What do we need to know?"

"And what about the Uchiha," Mebuki prompted, "What would be dangerous about what you do, sensei?"

"The Dokuso..." Rei-sensei said meditatively. "Hm, well, I've been on a few missions with Arashi-kun's father, and the first, most important thing is-"

My teammates leaned in, and Rei-sensei tapped a finger on her chin, thoughtfully.

"Never eat anything he eats," she said, "even if it was fine before he touched it, don't assume you can still eat it."

"What do you mean?"

"Arashi-kun, when I gave you that udon, what was in it?"

I swallowed, and looked down at my bowl. "Uh, noodles, soup, fishcakes, prawns, seaweed... that's it, I think."

"And now, what's in it?"

"Noodles, soup, fishcakes, prawns, cone snail venom, seaweed, pufferfish, and some extra salt."

My teammates paled, and I blinked.

"What? It's all seafood, right?"

"Okay, so don't touch any food that the rookie touches," Mebuki nodded, "Wait. Does that mean we can't make him do all the cooking on missions?"

"Sadly, we must continue our diet of Ibiki-kun's grilled tofu." Rei-sensei agreed, and Ibiki rolled his eyes.

"It's good for you!" Ibiki said, with the tone of someone who has had this argument many, many times. "You should be appreciative I'm cooking at all."

"Tofu can be good," I agreed, nodding. "You just have to spice it right."

"Nobody accept Arashi-kun's offer to spice their food, either," Rei-sensei continued smoothly. I meant adding actual spices, not toxins, but, hey, if they don't want me to do camp chores, I don't mind.

"So, rule one, no eating anything Arashi-kun touches. Rule two, do not assume that any poison he interacts with will have the same reaction when it touches you. I've seen Shoto-san breathe mustard gas without coughing, and the Dokuso talent gets stronger with each generation, so I don't know if Arashi-kun would even notice if he was poisoned."

"Can you be poisoned?" Ibiki asked, and I shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out?" I said, "but so far, no."

"What's the deadliest thing you've tried?"

I picked out a bit of cone snail with my chopsticks, holding up the stinger easily.

"If you get stung by a conesnail, you're dead within eight paces," I explained, and the rest of my team backed away, Rei-sensei putting an arm in front of her students. "It's dead, but it can still sting, so it's very dangerous."

"How did you get that in a take-out bowl?" Mebuki asked, pale faced, and I shrugged.

"I keep some on hand. It's kind of... warm tasting. Like good soup? It goes well with the udon."

"Never touch Arashi's stuff," Ibiki said, and Mebuki nodded, "message received."

I shrugged, and bit into my cone snail.

"Third thing about the Dokuso," Rei-sensei said, once they'd calmed down and gone back to their lunches, "they're all insane and have no concept of what death is."

"Sensei!" I frowned, and she shrugged.

"Arashi-kun, I respect you very much, but I have also seen your father get his hand cut off, pick it up, put it down the back of your mother's jonin vest to scare her, and then casually re-attach it."

I blinked, looking around at my teammates.

"...Which is definitely not normal ninja behaviour?" I confirmed, and Ibiki pinched the bridge of his nose.

I mean, I knew my family was weird, but I'd thought it was because they were ninja, not that ninja thought they were weird too.

"What about the Uchiha?" Mebuki asked, and Rei-sensei hummed.

"Now, you probably won't pick up these ones nearly as easily, because you've grown accustomed to them, working with me. If you stay on a team with Arashi-kun, his clan customs will become part of your everyday life, too."

"I don't know them," I prompted her. The Uchiha were so key to the story of this world, going all the way back to the concept of ninjutsu, even, and I didn't remember Kishimoto ever talking about them having 'weird clan habits', the way he'd talked (briefly) about the Aburame and the Inuzuka.

"That's a good point, Arashi-kun. Well, we Uchiha are typically very clannish, beyond any other group. It's very rare to see us ina squad without at least one other Uchiha, as we tend to become paranoid without clan company." As she talked, she ticked off her points on her fingers.

"We tend to have very high night vision, so we damp our campfires more than you would. Don't try to touch our face or eyes, try not to crowd- we have very large personal space bubbles, and if we want to be near you, we'll approach you ourselves..." she hummed thoughtfully, "I can't think of anything else right now."

Honestly, that explained a lot about how Sasuke acted. I tried to think of how I would have managed, being suddenly adrift in a society like that. Nobody who understood why I did what I did, or what I wanted when I asked.

Oh.

Oh, poor Sasuke.

Not a thought I often had, to be honest, but no wonder he was a feral little bastard in the story.

"But sensei, you don't have any other Uchiha with you," I said, "why are you okay?"

"I don't?!" she gasped dramatically, looking around, "Wake up! Did you hear that, Senbei?"

"Rude," said a gravelly voice from inside her flak vest, and I blinked.

"Ah... what?"

"This is Senbei, my partner," Rei-sensei said, and fished a small frog out of her inside vest pocket. She was very careful to only touch him with her gloves, and when she presented him on her palm, I could see why.

He was very small, maybe the length of the first two knuckles of her finger, at most, and a bright, brilliant yellow, dappled with black stripes and spots.

A poison dart frog. And, if I wasn't mistaken- and I wasn't, because father had a whole terrarium of them in his workshop- he was one of the more deadly types. Dendrobates leucomelas, specifically.

"You're the new kid, huh?" the frog said, staring at me with prominent eyes. "A poisoner?" He hopped off Rei-sensei's glove, and I automatically stuck out my hand.

Ibiki, next to me, winced, but he landed on my palm easily enough, tiny pad-fingers settling on skin.

"A foolish poisoner," he sniffed, and I tilted my head to one side.

He paused, as if for dramatic effect, and I blinked at him.

Ibiki pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why aren't you passing out?" he asked, after a moment more.

"He always does this," Mebuki said, rolling her eyes. "It's his dramatic introduction- he hops onto someone, calls them foolish, they pass out from his venom, and when they wake up he tells them not to underestimate him just because he's small, and demands they call him Senbei-sama."

"What was that, Mebuki?!"

"Nothing, Senbei-sama," Mebuki said, smiling sweetly, and I nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry I ruined your intro," I said, and he looked puzzled.

"If you had waited for a polite introduction, Senbei," Rei-sensei said, "you would know that he has a bloodline that makes him immune to poisons."

"Wait," Senbei eyed me up, "Are you Shoto-kun's boy?"

"That's me! Dokuso Arashi, pleased to meet you!" I bowed politely to the frog, and reconsidered the life that had me describing that as a perfectly normal behaviour.

"Oh, well, in that case," Senbei demurred, in his deep, gravelly voice, and climbed up to sit on my head, croaking happily as he settled in my green hair.

Swamp chic. It's going to be all the rage, just watch me. Soon all the most fashionable people in Konoha will be dying their hair the colour of a dead mangrove and keeping small amphibians in their hair. 

"Senbei keeps me anchored," Rei-sensei explained, as we threw away our dishes and started limbering up, "he's got a rare paralysis poison, rather than the typical deadly one, and he's saved both my missions and my life many times."

"Oh, Rei-chan," Senbei said, sounding flattered, "we're partners! That's my job."

"He's a summon, right?" I confirmed, and Rei nodded.

"It's not an extensive scroll- most frogs work with the toads, which is one of the big three scrolls-"

I noticed that Senbei seemed slightly put out at the mention of the toads, which was curious. Sensei was still talking, though, and I didn't want to interrupt.

"-but it's perfect for me. I have the tree frog scroll, which summons Senbei and his family."

"I'm going to inherit it, after sensei," Mebuki said proudly. "I can't summon much, yet, but I have a partner too."

She pulled her own flakvest aside, and I could see a little pocket sewn into the inner chest, a classic green tree frog sitting in it.

"This is Umaibo!"

The frog ribbited, and she closed her jacket.

"He's...uh, he's still learning how to talk," she said sheepishly, "but he's really cool."

"Really cool, senpai," I agreed, and Ibiki snickered.

"Yeah,  _ super _ cool frog, senpai."

Senbei leapt onto his head, placing two little sticky hands on his forehead, and Ibiki fell forward, flat on his face.

"Umaibo is my treasured little brother," the frog told Ibiki's paralysed form, "I would advise not disrespecting him."

"'es, En'ei-a'a," Ibiki agreed, unable to move his mouth.

Rei-sensei shook her head.

"Ah, you children. You keep me young, you really do," she scooped up Senbei, putting him back in her vest, and toed Ibiki over, so he was staring blankly at the sky.

"Well, I think this is a sign to restart our capture and evasion drill! Arashi-kun, go!"

I shrieked, dodging an unexpected fuuma-shuriken, and grabbed Ibiki by the collar of his shirt, flipping him over my shoulder with a little chakra-reinforced strength.

"Faster, greenie!" Mebuki carolled, throwing a full brace of senbon at me, and I launched into the trees, sprinting away.

At about four, once we were so tired that I'd started falling out of the trees, Rei-sensei gathered us up and took us to do D-ranks. By that point in the day, most of the good jobs had already been taken, so we did a lot of stinky, mucky, physically unpleasant jobs. Rei-sensei seemed to consider this character building, and she would sit and watch us as we gutted fish for the dinner rush, or weeded sewage outlet areas, or helped de-tick the deer, reading us sections of the shinobi handbook.

It was unpleasantly similar to Sakumo-jisan's training, but with more bad smells.

"Shinobi code number twenty eight, Arashi-kun?"

"a shinobi must be armed and ready at all times. Even in sleep, you must be armed and prepared to repel attackers," I recited, and sensei threw a knife at me.

God, why couldn't I have been born into a family with a less dangerous line of work? Like, we're all poets or something? Less knives, less murderous chakra, just... poetry.

I threw a senbon at her, and she dodged easily.

"Good situational awareness, Arashi-kun!" she praised. "Ibiki-kun, shinobi code number thirty two!"

When we returned to our usual training ground, where sensei always said goodbye to us and sent us home, there were two people waiting for us. Kakashi, who was smiling- for a moment I wanted to test if he was an imposter, but I had no method- at a tall blond in a white coat. There was a moment of familiarity, seeing him, and then- recognition.

It was strange, seeing characters just walking around. Most of the time, I could ignore that I was living in a world that was, essentially, fictional. Other times, it would hit me smack in the face. Trying to reconcile the manga look I was used to with real life was one of those things.

See, Minato was clearly Minato. He had the blond hair, the bright blue eyes, and the coat. He had the pleasant smile, the faint air of embarrassment as he waved hello to us all.

On the other hand, nobody in real life had spiky yellow hair without some serious hair gel and a bit of dye. Instead, his blond hair was a rich gold, and it stuck up in random cowlicks and flyaways, less sculpted spikes and more 'I sometimes cut my own hair with a kunai and no mirror'.

(Kakashi was not immune to this effect. He had the fluffiest, finest hair I'd ever seen, and it did, in fact, puff up on its own as soon as it dried. Absolutely insane, in my opinion.)

"Minato-kun!" Rei-sensei said, waving back, "Look at you! The jonin vest suits you, you know!"

"Ah, Rei-senpai," Minato reddened- his colouring showed it terribly, pale as he was- and flapped a hand dismissively. "I guess it has been a while, hasn't it?"

I hadn't realised before, but Rei had to be almost twice Minato's age- he was what, eighteen? Maybe twenty? She was in her late thirties, well past him in both age and career progression.

"I remember when you were barely a chuunin," she said, happily reminiscing, "all ink smears and illegible reports. Bless. So, what brings you and your apprentice over here?"

"Just here to pick up your rookie," Minato said, equally cheerful, and the two jonin beamed at each other, almost competitively good natured. "We finished our mission early, so I decided to get Kakashi a little extra spending money," he said, wiggling a mission scroll. It had a D-rank tag on it, and I looked at Kakashi, who avoided my gaze. "So, we're moving a household!"

"What do you need greenie for, then?" Mebuki asked, resting an elbow on top of my head. Unfortunately, any poison Senbei had left on it had already been lost, and she did not fall to the ground paralysed.

"He's the one whose house we're moving," Kakashi clarified grumpily, and I pushed Mebuki's arm away.

"We're moving tonight?"

"You've already been moved," he corrected, "you just need to pick a room, and I'll unseal your stuff in it."

“Or, more accurately, I will,” Minato said. “It’s a pretty complex seal.”

"We'll wrap it up now, then," Rei-sensei said, "have a good rest, and I'll see you all tomorrow, bright and early!"

I nodded, trying not to bounce too much in excitement, but from Ibiki's smile, I didn't do a great job.

"Come on, Arashi," Kakashi said, jerking his head towards the road, and I ran after him, trying to keep up with his longer step, which was already hurrying to keep up with Minato's adult legs.

"See you tomorrow," I called over my shoulder, and got goodbyes in return from the others- Mebuki was already powering towards the village square, a romantic fire in her eyes, and Ibiki was following her, obviously headed home as well.

"So, I know you're Kakashi-kun's cousin, but I don't know much about you, Arashi-kun. Why don't we change that?" Minato's gaze was friendly, but probing, and I had a moment where the only thing I could think was that I knew he was going to die in next ten years. He and his wife. Both dead. A child, alone in the world. The crumbling behemoth of canon, shambling on with all its trauma and violence and surprisingly pre-teen appropriate action scenes.

I froze in panic, and blurted the first thing on my mind.

"Is your name written like harbour?"

Minato blinked, and Kakashi groaned, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You're so weird, Arashi, you can't just ask people that whenever you meet them for the first time!"

"What else am I meant to ask?!" I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets too. "It's a good icebreaker!"

"Haha, it is a good icebreaker," Minato agreed, nodding, and Kakashi stopped halfway through forming a comeback, "and yeah, my name is spelled with harbour. What about you? Is it storm, or..?"

"Yeah, it's storm," I nodded.

"Do you like words, Arashi-kun?" Minato asked, and oh, oh the storm he unleashed.

It was me. I was the storm. 

Which was appropriate, linguistically.

"-and anyway, that's why phonetic ambiguity exists so much in spoken speech," I finished, as we turned onto the narrow lane that faced the Dokuso clan house.

"Oh, look! Here we are," Minator said, still cheerful despite my thirty minute lecture on linguistics. Kakashi had zoned out a while ago, people watching as we walked, but he snapped to as we approached the gate.

The house wasn't out on the outskirts of Konoha, where the bigger clan areas were, but instead held onto a narrow patch of land in the suburbs, between a little convenience store and a shinobi apartment block. The fence was solid, and almost two metres tall, to stop any wandering hands from touching the garden inside, but apart from that, was fairly traditional. There was a little rectangular name plate, new and shining, which said DOKUSO/HATAKE, sitting by the gate, and when Kakashi pushed it open, it swung on newly oiled hinges.

As I'd said before, I knew the house a little. But not really. Only the grounds, and it had always been in a state of semi-tamed greenery before, and we didn’t visit often, so when the gate opened and I saw the house properly, I was surprised.

The grounds were practically clean, all the trees and bushes with that slightly shocked, overly pruned look of the recently gardened, and each one carefully labelled with signs that noted how toxic they were, on a scale of zero to ten. Most everything was a six or higher. The paths were gravel and stone, carefully raked, and no greenery poked over into them, leading a walker on either a careful orbit of the grounds, or up the hill, to the front of the house. The house itself was a traditional affair, with a full raised engawa style porch surrounding it, just like the one around the old Hatake house. 

I swallowed, pausing- the last time I’d been at a house like this, I’d seen someone almost die- but Kakashi brushed past me, leading the way up. Minato gave me an encouraging push between the shoulderblades, and I followed.

As we entered, Minato fished a facemask out of his jacket, slipping it on, and I tilted my head to the side, curious.

"The air quality around here is... dubious," he explained, "because of all the toxic flora. The barrier seals take care of the street and neighbours, so they don't have any issues, but it's not a friendly place for anyone who isn't wearing a mask."

I looked at Kakashi, who was looking smugly superior behind his own mask- as he usually did- and hopped up onto the porch. I knew that behind the house was one of father's workshops, and a much larger greenhouse, as well as the fishpond, but Kakashi clearly wasn't interested in a tour, going straight for one of the sliding doors that lead into the house. As we entered, I noticed that each of the doors had a repeating pattern of ink work in the tracks, and Minato took off his mask with a sigh once we were inside.

"More seals?" I asked, and he nodded.

"They're traditional," mother said, turning from where she was sitting at the desk. “Politeness, for visitors. We put some extra work into them, though. What with all us easily poisoned Hatake in the place.” She rose to her feet, padding across the tatami to greet us, and I looked around the room. It was disorienting, seeing our old furniture in here- it looked too new, compared to the other things here, but that was definitely our coffee table next to the cushions on the floor, and that was my calligraphy scroll- childish and terrible as it was- decorating a niche, along with some fresh flowers. She showed us around quickly- the kitchen, which had our old table in it, the bathrooms (plural! No more waiting for Kakashi to finish his two hour showers!), the study, which my father was busy taking over, the training hall, which oji-san was looking over with a far too approving eye for my future health and comfort, and finally, a set of empty rooms- five in total, which she gestured to.

"And here are all the empty bedrooms. Each of you can pick one, they're about the same size. Your oji-san has decided to take the tea house," mother jerked a thumb at one of the windows, and sure enough, there was a stately little tea house sitting by the fish pond, only a few metres away. "We're never going to use it for its intended purpose," she said wryly, "so he might as well get the extra space."

She clapped her hands, and turned back towards the main room.

"I'll let you boys decide on your own. Minato-sensei, you'll help them with the item seals?"

"Of course," Minato said, and she shot him a grateful smile, heading back to her paperwork.

We took a look around, but the selection process wasn't exactly difficult. Kakashi stepped into the room with the best view of the fish pond and the teahouse, and turned to look at me, chin jutting out stubbornly.

Naturally, I pretended I had absolutely no interest in that room, brushing past him to examine the others, eventually settling on one that faced in towards the central courtyard, where the well and the apple trees were. It had two sets of sliding doors, so I could open it up entirely on the courtyard side if I wanted to, and still had a good view of the larger garden beyond- particularly, a good view of the smaller greenhouse, and the free-roaming lizards inside it.

I heard a murmured conversation from Kakashi's new room, and then the sound of items falling, before Minato appeared in my doorway.

"All set, Arashi-kun?"

I nodded, leaning out the window to look at the garden bed below. It was planted with foxglove and tigerclaw, and I smiled as I turned back to look at the jonin.

"Yeah, I picked the best one," I said confidently. Minato laughed again- he seemed cheerful, in the same way Rei-sensei was cheerful. Like somebody who had seen a lot of bad things, and was purposefully remembering all the good things, participating in positivity. There was a warmth to his presence, and I could see how Kakashi had become so attached to him as I looked away, at the tatami on the floor.

"Why's that?"

"I like thunderstorms," I said, and Minato looked around the room, understanding dawning.

"So you can open all the doors when it's storming, and be close without getting wet. Just be careful you don't get too cold, Arashi-kun."

I blinked. I... had not expected him to understand that quickly.

"Now, you like words, so check this out!" He said, pulling a scroll from inside his flak vest with a flourish. It was in a deep red case, but he quickly tapped the scroll itself out and unrolled it. On it were a bunch of seals I'd not seen before, and I hopped over, leaning over his shoulder as he crouched in front of the scroll.

"These are specialised item seals. They hold very big items, but only for a few hours before they overload," Minato explained, pointing at a character that was slowly changing. "There's the timer. When it hits 'void', it'll spit out all the contents indiscriminately."

"Cool," I said, and pointed at the central kanji, "but why doesn't it say what's inside, like a normal seal? It just says 'big'!"

"Well, most seals are based on what's inside, right? This is just based on how much is inside. You could seal a 'big' rock, or a 'big' amount of water, or a 'big' couch. It's all the same to this seal," he explained.

I kept asking questions. Why were there the extra marks outside the circle? To balance the seal equation, and stop it from overloading too quickly. Why was the calligraphy so swishy and brushy? The extra ink allowed extra power to be carried, at the expense of control.

Before I knew it, Minato was in a fairly in depth lecture on seal technique, and the scroll was counting down as we ignored it.

"Ah, shit-" Minato said, as the entire seal turned bright red. "It's overloading-"

"Activate it! Activate it!" I shrieked, and he slammed his hand down with a cry of "Unseal!"

A pile of furniture clattered into place in the middle of the room, and I let out a relieved sigh.

From the door, Kakashi raised an eyebrow at me.

“Arashi. How did you mess up  _ unpacking _ so badly that Minato-sensei had to save you?”

“I… have a talent?” I said sheepishly, and Kakashi just stared at me.

“It’s your only talent,” he said, and Minato put his hands on his hips. 

“Come on, Kakashi-kun, don’t be mean to your cousin.”

Kakashi turned his deadpan stare on his teacher, and I picked up a random knick-knack, setting it on a shelf. 

“Oops, I’ve got to unpack. You should go unpack too,” I said, pushing at Minato and Kakashi- my hands could only reach to their backs, and barely that on Minato, but I pushed as hard as I could. “No time for socialising!”

“I don’t have anything to unpack?” Minato questioned, but it was too late, he was outside my room, and I slammed the door shut. 

Ah, peace and quiet. 

Time to panic about his inevitable death at the hands of one of his students and how I could do nothing about it. 


	6. Chapter 6

"I have my first C-rank today," I said casually, swirling my chopsticks through my miso soup. It was, admittedly, a little rude, but it was also Kakashi's turn to cook breakfast, and eggplant in miso soup is digusting. Just, entirely gross. There's something deeply wrong with that boy's tastebuds. I picked out a chunk of eggplants and put it to the side, and mother, who had been sleepily bent over her rice, straightened in alarm.

"You're already going on a C-rank?" she asked, blinking. Mother had been working double shifts for the last few weeks, and had only arrived home about twenty minutes ago, sitting down for breakfast before going to bed.

"Mm. The front needs supplies," I said with a shrug, trying not to display how incredibly terrifying the idea of going to an active battlefield was to me.

"Your first C-rank," Sakumo said, clearly thoughtful. "I remember Kakashi's first C-rank. That was the one where you accidentally uncovered a coup trying to assassinate the daimyo, right?"

I blinked, but Kakashi just nodded, shovelling soup into his stupid face.

"Ah, it makes me think of my first C-rank," my father said fondly, "I poisoned my entire team and had to carry sensei across the Wind border while under assault by the Puppet Corp. What about yours, darling?"

"Well, dear," my mother said, "I was meant to be doing routine border patrol, and we found a giant fuuinjutsu seal that was meant to steal all the ambient chakra from the Hashirama trees and poison all life that grows from the ground."

Everyone nodded calmly.

"I had to fight a demon," she continued, grabbing some salmon. "and my team member sacrificed his life to seal him away for all eternity."

"Is that... standard?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"I mean, the demon bit is a little unusual," Sakumo-jisan said, "but otherwise? Yeah. Everyone has a 'first C-rank' story."

"What's yours, o-jisan?"

Sakumo stared into the middle distance and shuddered.

"Don't... don't ask."

"Is it that bad-"

"Don't ask, Arashi-kun," he said firmly, and went back to his rice.

Well, that explains why Kakashi didn't even seem phased by the bullshit that was the Wave Arc.

I looked over at my pack, sitting next to the door. It was a fairly standard hiking backpack, and I'd packed as lightly as I thought was reasonable, considering it was meant to be a seven day round trip. I was now wondering if I should have packed more weapons. Or a stretcher. Or whatever you used to fight demons.

"Father..." I asked, looking back to the rest of the table, "Could you help me pack?"

I arrived at the Northern Gate twenty minutes early, carrying a small backpack that fit neatly to my spine, extra clasps keeping it tight to my chest. Father had kindly created a few sealing scrolls to keep my belongings in, separated into a few discrete categories. There were my necessities- the things I'd originally packed. There were emergency doubles. And then, there was the oh-shit scroll. That one had a bunch of random things that I was afraid I would need for some reason. These included things like glitter, a vaccine clarification set, a full court calligraphy kit, a set of identification papers for one 'Suzumiya Harumaru', native to Kumo, an emergency snake bite kit, a hard hat, and a sutra for demon expulsion.

Just in case.

When I arrived, Ibiki was already waiting, sitting on a bench, reading a book and eating dango.

"Are you already eating sweets, senpai?" I asked, and he startled, almost dropping his dumplings. "It's only eight o'clock."

"And if I cared, I'm sure that would matter," he said, eating one of the sticky treats. They were glazed with a dark sauce- mitarashi, maybe? Or something seasonal?- and there was a bit staining the corner of his mouth as he chewed. "But considering we're going to war, I don't really care. If I'm responsible enough to die in battle, I'm responsible enough to decide when I get to eat sugar."

I nodded, taking a seat on the bench next to him.

"Are we going to see battle?"

"Probably," he said. His feet were on the ground, but my legs swung, not long enough to touch the dirt while sitting. "But probably not yet. You're a little kid- sensei will try and give you a soft introduction."

"I'm five now," I said, despite agreeing with him fully. While I spent a solid half of my internal monologue screaming about how I'm a baby, there was something patronising about hearing someone else say it. Technically, I'm a legal adult. If I went into a bar and ordered a drink, they would have to serve me.

What the fuck, right?

Ibiki was watching me, clearly thoughtful. While we'd been training together for a little over a month now, we hadn't spoken much outside of that. Mebuki-senpai didn't stick around afterwards, after all, and there was something awkward about a young teen and a young child just hanging out together. Everytime he looked at me, I could see him going 'holy shit, that is a baby. An actual child. He has a knife, but he is a child.', which doesn't make for a super fun friendship dynamic.

And I'd had such hopes for my genin cell. They made such a big fuss about teams in the manga, all that rot about 'brothers in arms' and 'closer than family', and what did I get? A kid terrified of children younger than him, and a teenager with her head equally split between bloodshed and hormones.

"You want one?" Ibiki asked, after an awkward few minutes passed, and held out a stick of dango towards me.

"Oh! Sure, thanks! I'd say I'll get the next one, but..." I shrugged, taking the stick from Ibiki and sprinkling some seasoning over the dumplings.

Mm, rycin. Delicious.

Ibiki, who saw me do this, snickered. "Yeah. Tell you what, you can pay for the next one."

"Seems fair," I agreed, and we ate our dango quietly. "Ne, Ibiki-senpai?"

"Yeah?"

"What was your first C-rank like?"

Ibiki brightened, and began to weave a story about rival yakuza-shinobi clans, a secret marriage, and a stealthy civil war that seemed ripped straight from Romeo and Juliet. His hands wove energetically as he spoke, and he seemed to forget that he was awkward around me, describing the 'cool backflip' he did in the climactic final battle, where our Juliet equivalent did a doton jutsu strong enough to take out a half dozen not-Montagues, and Romeo summoned a giant moose to ride to her rescue.

He was a good story-teller, wrapping up the story just as the hour struck and our other teammates arrived.

I applauded, half my dango stick completely forgotten as Ibiki finished with how Juliet had named her first born after him. It was a good story, and Rei-sensei smiled as she appeared. She didn't seem to be carrying any bags at all, and Mebuki had just a small cross-body satchel, so sealing must be a pretty popular packing technique.

"The Kaburi story again, Ibiki-kun?" Rei-sensei asked, and Ibiki reddened.

"It's a good story," I said.

"See, he wanted to hear it," Ibiki said, hopping to his feet. Like me, he had a small backpack, and he shouldered it easily as he joined the other two.

"He wasn't warned," Mebuki said, propping her hands on her hips, "How could he know he didn't want to hear it?"

"It was a good story," I said again, but she ignored me. That smarted a little, I won't lie. I hate being ignored- it just hits hard, in a weird way, and I felt my jaw set unhappily under my mask as I joined them at the gate.

"Alright, team," Rei-sensei clapped her hands together. "Back to the front we go, if only temporarily. As our first mission as Team Twenty One, we're getting three days leave upon our return, but then, it's back to work for real. So, when you get back, wrap up what needs wrapping up, because it'll be at least three months before you see these gates again."

My heart sank, but I nodded when sensei looked at me, and she pulled a handful of sealing scrolls from her vest.

"Okay, good. Moving on- this is our payload for the mission, and we're going to split up. Everyone take a couple of scrolls."

I grabbed a pair of red-tagged scrolls, while Ibiki took blue, and Mebuki had yellow. That left Rei-sensei with bright pink tags, and she nodded, sliding them away.

"We are expecting Iwa-nin to have trapped the last third of our path, but stay aware. Lines shift quickly, and what was safe when our mission was assigned may not be safe anymore by the time we arrive. We'll be travelling in a diamond formation, Mebuki breaking, Ibiki-kun on the left, Arashi-kun at the right, and myself in the rear. No chatter once we break the border, okay?"

We all nodded, and I tucked my two scrolls away- one in the holder I keep my tags in, on my thigh, and the other in the small of my back, under my michiyuki.

"Now, it's just a C-rank, so we should be just fine!" Rei-sensei said brightly, "I want to be at outpost seventy three by nightfall-"

Outpost seventy three was well into contested territory, one of the first waypoints we needed to restock, but also well staffed with Konoha shinobi. Which meant it would, nominally, be safe.

"Let's go!" She called, and Mebuki shot ahead into the trees.

With all our training, it was surprisingly easy to keep up. Only a month ago, I would have been lagging quickly, concentrating on my chakra control and pathing and breathing and trying to keep an eye out for enemies, but all of Rei-sensei's drills had me doing everything as second nature, leaving me free to listen to Mebuki and Ibiki making casual conversation. We were running fast enough that the leaves were blurs, faster than my fastest dead sprint from before, but I felt like I was moving at a gentle walk, not breathing hard in the slightest.

We didn’t talk much, just a few clipped phrases from Rei-sensei to steer us one way or another, and Mebuki seemed very focused, her head on a swivel as we continued over a wide river, under a set of tightly woven mangrove branches, through a rocky ravine.

We were meant to be taking a series of loaded up scrolls to a series of different outposts, making a wide loop around Konoha’s front lines, before returning back to our actual mission- a village near the border was missing supplies, and thought that either bandits or enemy soldiers were sneaking in at night to take them. Fairly standard C-rank stuff, plus the war effort, from what I could tell.

The first outpost was the most remarkable. I’d never seen a war outpost, after all, and the fact that it was  _ inside _ a tree probably shouldn’t have shocked me- we’re the village hidden in the leaves, after all- but it was still remarkable, when Rei-sensei called us to a stop in a random clearing, made a half dozen handsigns, and a door suddenly appeared in one of the mature, Hashirama trees. Mature Hashirama trees are rare, even closer to the village, with their wide trunks- up to fifteen metres across, at their largest- their dense, grey brown bark, and bright foliage that never shed or changed colour. Still, they’re common enough that nobody blinks to see them, foreign or local, and as the door in the tree opened to reveal a grim faced chuunin, maybe seventeen years old with a nasty scar crawling up his jaw, I wondered how much of that was purposeful, to cover the locations of the outposts.

“Resupply,” Rei-sensei said, followed by a handful of codes and counter-codes- nothing I recognised from my own set of signs and countersigns (the ones that genin were authorised to use), but my brain immediately wanted to pick them apart.

I purposefully ignored this impulse, and Rei-sensei snapped her fingers at me.

“Scroll two, Arashi-kun.”

“Yes, sensei!” I said, hurriedly slipping it out of my michiyuki and passing it over.

“For the coming spring,” she said, and the chuunin nodded.

“May summer come quickly,” he answered grimly, and Rei-sensei released her grip on the scroll. That must have been the final countersign she was waiting for, because her face relaxed into a jovial smile.

Next to me, Ibiki was doing some stretches, squatting down with one leg extended in a pistol squat, while Mebuki was twisting her hips and torso, loosening the muscles.

“Ten minutes, kids,” Rei-sensei said, moving in to chat with the chuunin in a low voice, and I decided to follow my senpai in their routines. They knew more than me what it meant to run for days on end, and if they needed to stretch, I certainly would. So, I dropped into Ibuki’s pistol squat- we’re of a more similar build than Mebuki and I are, and Ibuki moved from the pistol squat to a forward fold after a few moments. It was a simple routine, holding each pose for about fifteen seconds- a little too short for yoga, a little too long for what I remember of pilates.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Rei-sensei reappeared, holding three canteens.

“Drink up, and let’s head out,” she said, examining the sky with a thoughtful eye. “We have four more stops before we reach Tanou village, and we need to be there before nightfall.”

I accepted the water, taking a deep sip, and then secured it on my belt.

“Hey, Arashi,” Ibuki asked, looking reluctantly curious, “What’s in your water canteen?”

“Water?” I asked back.

“And?”

“Little bit of strychnine. Just for flavour,” I said, and he shook his head at me.

Rei-sensei let out a soft laugh, clearly modulating for being outside the village, where potential enemies could hear her.

“Come on. Let’s get a move on.”

We launched back into the trees, and I took a deep breath.

First C-rank, huh?

So far, so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats that it's been almost a year?  
you're right, i'm sorry, i'll try and write some more soon.  
hope y'all are doing okay in this isolation business, and you're all staying safe and well!  
please leave me a comment to feed my self-esteem, i'm a delicate young man


	7. Chapter 7

As we approached from the woods, I could see the entire town of Tanou laid out before us- a neat little square cut into the steps of the hills, surrounded by scattered grass land and forest. Right on the border between Fire and Grass, Tanou village was something of an oddity if only for its complete lack of geopolitical interest. It had… fine soil, grew enough to sustain itself, a little extra for trade, but its location cut it off from any of the border crossings, and they didn’t have any special resources, clans, or techniques. It was the very image of a boring, civilian settlement.

I was ninety percent sure that this was a ruse to put me at ease, before the shit hit the fan. In what way, I wasn’t sure, but it definitely had a ‘Higurashi’ vibe to it in its innocence, so I was expecting something wildly horrific. Some kind of apple cult that sacrifices innocent genin, like an Elemental Country Wicker Man.

Or, perhaps Orochimaru was already up to his evil experiments in Grass, and we were going to run across the proto-Sound Village and fight… honestly, Orochimaru seemed to only work with under-twenties in the anime, so I couldn’t think of a name for anyone who would be alive and fighting fit.Kabuto would be in nappies, if he was even alive yet, and Tayuya was barely a glimmer in her daddy’s eye.

We took a pause at the top of the ridge to re-hydrate, and Rei-sensei laid out the mission again.

“We have been hired by the headwoman of Tanou village, Tanou Masako, to investigate the theft of their supplies. The supplies disappear overnight, with no particular timing that the villagers have been able to distinguish.”

She was smiling as she began the walk down the hill, one elegant hand gesturing with painted nails, “Our job, as Konoha shinobi, is to stake out the supply house for one week, starting at seven o’clock tonight, and apprehend any thieves before they take any further supplies. At the end of the week, we will escort their supply train to the next trade town, Fuyo-Shou. Before you ask, Arashi-kun, the kanji are from ‘gift’ and ‘laughter’.”

I sheepishly lowered my hand, question answered.

“Excellent. Any other questions?”

“Suspects for the theft?” Ibiki asked, dark brows knit with concern.   
“Three main possibilities- can anyone tell me what they are?”

“Bandits,” Masaki said immediately, practically spitting the word.

“Masaki-chan comes from a trade family,” Rei-sensei explained to me, “she’s had more than enough experience with bandits.”

“They haven’t had enough experience with  _ me _ ,” Masaki growled, “or there wouldn’t be anyone dumb enough to keep on in that career.”

I felt that was a bit of a simplification, calling banditry a career. Somehow, I didn’t imagine kids in a classroom, saying that when they grew up, they wanted to be a bandit. I was pretty sure that banditry was usually a route of last resort, rather than a moral failing.

“Missing nin?” I suggested, “as mercenaries?”

“Possible,” Rei-sensei agreed, “but why would someone want to rob Tanou village particularly?”

I shrugged.

“Don’t they grow Tanou apples, here?” Ibiki asked, and Rei-sensei hummed approvingly.

“Very good, Ibiki-kun! Yes, they grow Tanou apples, which are a particularly tasty variety, suited to growing on the rough slope of the cliffs.”

“Is that worth stealing?” I asked. I felt like it was. It would have been, before. Agricultural companies go wild for shit like that, hardy breeds of plants that can grow in unusual terrains. I wasn’t sure if it was the same here, where you could use ninjutsu to help adjust things like soil quality.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mebuki said, nodding, “the Genjou would love something like that.”

“However,” Rei-sensei interrupted, “there has been no particular targeting of the Tanou apples. So, we can’t be sure that’s the motivation. What else could it be?”

“Iwa nin,” Ibiki said bleakly, “targeting a non-essential settlement to draw troops away from the front.”

“Which is why they sent us,” I realised, “we aren’t essential for front line work, but this still needs doing, just in case.”

“Exactly! No matter which of our scenarios it is, we’re an ideal choice,” Rei-sensei beamed, and leaned down to ruffle my hair.

Nobody seems to care about how much effort I put in to the hair. 

Nobody appreciates the  _ work _ . 

* * *

As we arrived, I was hoping, I think, for some kind of fun, apple-based theme, but Tanou village was, in a word, underwhelming.

It was a mid-sized, rural village, surrounded by orchards and fields, and everyone was dressed pretty normally, in a combination of the more Western ninja fashion, and the more civilian traditional Japanese fare. No large, cartoony apple head dresses, or apple mascots.

There were no starving orphans, or giant demon statues- I was keeping an eye out for them- or even a group of conspicuously character designed kids who I would stir to revolution or teach a valuable lesson about bullying or whatever.

It was just… normal.

Honestly, I felt a little cheated. It was certainly no Wave village, that’s for sure. Just a little rural town, on the slopes of a mountain near Grass. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar, but honestly, I was busy keeping an eye out for demon statues, and didn’t think about it any further.

That’s probably how I missed the crow flying over our heads, cawing in a strange, syncopated rhythm. I didn’t miss the way that the others stiffened, though. Mebuki froze, a hand at her kunai pouch, and Ibiki’s head whipped around, trying to find something. Rei-sensei, though? She simply sighed, running one gloved hand over her hair, and turned towards us. 

“Sensei?” I asked, having finally caught the mood. I felt very out of it, and I wasn’t sure why. I’d slept normally, I had eaten, and I was on edge, aware of being in an active warzone, but I was still… off.

“Ugent request for back up,” she explained, and fished Senbei out of her vest, dropping him into my hair. The frog summon hummed thoughtfully, and Rei-sensei switched her gaze from me to the frog. “Partner, I can trust you to-”

“Of course,” Senbei said, inclining his head gravely, and Rei-sensei nodded. She looked over to Mebuki, who nodded back to her.

“Mebuki-chan, you’re in charge until I return. Find our lodgings, talk to the client, and proceed as though I am not going to return-”

“Sensei!” Mebuki shook her head, “I’m sure you’ll-”

“No,’ Rei-sensei shook her head, “I don’t know how long they’ll need me, and a chuunin team could handle this mission easily enough. Hell, some particularly coordinated genin could do it. Ibiki-kun is practically a chuunin, anyway. Between the two of you, you’ll be fine.”

“What about me?” I asked, as Senbei jumped down from my hair to my shoulder, “I’m nowhere near being a chuunin.”

“Mebuki and Ibiki will look out for you,” Rei-sensei said firmly. “All of you, remember: you’re representing the village, here, so don’t be....”

She just kind of gestured at us, and Ibiki blushed. I could feel my own cheeks burning, but I was wearing my mask, as usual, so at least they couldn’t see the colour. Mebuki’s mouth set, all amusement leaving her face.

“Yes, sensei,” we chorused, and she nodded again, hands on her hips, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“We’re meant to do this on our own?!” I asked, very calmly, only shrieking slightly, and Mebuki nodded, putting her hands on her hips like sensei had.

“We’ll be fine, greenie. Ibiki and I have done stuff like this dozens of times before, and that was when we were running without a third. We’ll do great, even without sensei.”

“Not to mention,” Senbei said, in his gravelly voice, “you have the supervision of the great Senbei!”

“Right,” Ibiki said, sounding troubled, and Senbei leapt from my shoulder to Ibiki’s. “Right, of course. And Mebuki-senpai is a perfectly fine team leader… I’m just. Hm. I think we should approach this carefully. Or we could just wait for sensei to get back-”

“Hey! Are you doubting my leadership skills?” Mebuki asked hotly, and Ibiki shrugged.

“Doubting? Uh, more like actively dreading.”

“Senbei is here too,” I said, hoping that would help. Mebuki and Ibiki were friends, to some degree, but their personalities tended to clash a little. Ibiki was more laid back, calmer, and a little sarcastic, and Mebuki was headstrong and very sure of herself, more willing to push the first plan she thought of, no matter how inappropriate it was.

“Yeah… Senbei-sama is here…” Ibiki said, and shook his head. “That’ll make it so much better.”

“You don’t sound sure, kid,” Senbei said, and Ibiki shook his head.

“No, I just-”

Senbei pressed one froggy hand to Ibiki’s cheek, and the teenager fell flat on the path, paralysed.

“As I said, you have the supervision of the great Senbei,” the frog said, as I scooped him up and re-deposited him on my head. “Do not dismiss me so easily.”

“‘Orry, ‘En’ei-’a’a,” Ibiki choked out, and Mebuki sighed, crouching next to him. She didn’t seem angry anymore, at least, swapping immediately into her field medic training. I thought it was really cool, watching her do first aid, and I said so, crouching next to her as she pulled out her sealed first aid kit, rummaging for the appropriate cure.

“Idiot. You should know better-”

Ibiki let out a frustrated noise, and Mebuki stopped looking through her pouch.

“What was that, kouhai? Are you giving your team leader cheek? We can just wait for you to come back to normal the long way, if you want…”

Ibiki let out a far more contrite noise, and Mebuki returned to her rummaging.

“I thought we were meant to be behaving,” I said plaintively, “Senbei, aren’t you meant to be supervising?”

“Do not question my methods, kid,” the frog said sternly. I felt a damp, froggy hand on my forehead, and crossed my eyes, looking up at Senbei.

“You remember that that doesn’t work, right? You can’t just paralyse me for saying things you don’t like.”

Somehow, the frog managed to look embarrassed, and Ibiki, still paralysed, managed to laugh through his rictus. I picked Senbei off my head, holding him in my palms instead, and he turned away with a huff, looking around at orchard surrounding our path.

“Aha!” Mebuki cheered, pulling a tiny vial out of her pouch, “got it! We’ll be back on the road in no time!”

“Just as planned,” Senbei said, kneading my scalp like a cat would knead a blanket- except damper, and less clawed- “I was testing your readiness, Mebuki-chan, and I must say, I’m impressed!”

Mebuki grinned, and applied the antidote using a senbon.

“Can we do the mission now?” Ibiki asked, sitting up. “Sensei only left us alone ten minutes ago and I’ve already been poisoned once.”

“Just friendly hazing,” Mebuki said, slapping him hard between the shoulderblades as she helped him back to his feet.

“Shouldn’t we be hazing the new guy?” Ibiki complained, and Mebuki turned to look at me, trotting along behind them, poison dart frog in hand.

I waved.

“...You know, he’s really very mature. I don’t think I need to.”

“He’s four!”

“I’m five!” I objected, following the teenagers as they descended the path.

“See, he’s five,” Mebuki said, waving a hand in imitation of Rei-sensei’s airy elegance. It wasn’t quite as effective on her. “And he’s a genius, remember?”

“I’m a very specialised genius,” I said, trying to stem the conversation, “it’s really just words and poisons, remember?”

“That’s two specialisations. Three, if you combine them,” Mebuki snapped at me.

“Poisonous words?” I blinked, “I don’t think that’s a thing…”

“Then you don’t know many teenage girls,” she replied smoothly, and Ibiki snorted.

“He’s been out of the Academy for less than a month, senpai! He doesn’t have any specialisations yet!”

“His parents are very well regarded,” Mebuki said, crossing her arms, “I’m sure he’ll grow up to-”

“That doesn’t make a difference!” Ibiki said hotly, “you’re just afraid of his bloodline, so you’ve decided to go back to bullying me!”

Mebuki stopped still, and looked at Ibiki seriously.

“Maybe so. Or maybe, the five year is acting more maturely than you are. Come on, Arashi-kun.”

She continued down the path, and I shrugged apologetically at Ibiki.

“If it helps, my mother says I have an old soul?”

Ibiki gaped, and I ran past, following Mebuki.

* * *

Tanou Masako was an older woman, maybe in her sixties, with steel grey hair she kept cut in a bob, and more wrinkles than one of the baked apples she served us as a snack.

We were all folded to sit seiza in her living room- she had an old farmhouse, with a raised engawa and a kotatsu, which she had encouraged us to sit at. Ibiki and I were flanking Mebuki, steaming cups of tea and small plates with baked apple set before us. Masako had folded her tea tray beneath one arm, and now she set it back on the table, sitting opposite of us.

“I am glad to see that Konoha has taken our request seriously,” she said, eyes on Mebuki’s flak jacket. She looked older than she was, after all. Maybe the old lady thought that Mebuki was a full jounin, working with apprentices?

It would explain her deferential tone towards Mebuki, at least.

I looked around the room briefly, noting a rock plant in a niche, a nice piece of calligraphy to do with harvests set behind it. I also noticed that the tatami was scuffed, older than ideal and worn out badly, and Masako’s yukata had been patched. Patched well, almost unnoticeably, but patched nonetheless. I had no idea that Tanou village was so poor, I thought briefly, before Masako smiled, and pushed the apple plate closer to me.

“Please, go ahead. I know how hungry the trip over the hills makes you, and if you’re anything like my grandchildren, you’re always hungry, even without the exercise.”

I looked to Mebuki, who nodded subtly, giving the all clear for me to eat.

Now, I have a deep and instinctive distrust of old women, stemming from some… history… but her energy was immaculate, and so, I happily bit into my apple as Mebuki and her talked.

I mean, what was she going to do? Poison me?

“Masako-san, we’re very happy to assist you in your mission request,” Mebuki said smoothly, and nodded to Ibiki, who took over the conversation.

He was really very charismatic, I thought, nibbling on my apple slices. Mebuki was watching serenely, and I suppressed a hiccup, taking a quick sip of tea.

But that was what it meant to be a ninja, wasn’t it? To figure out your natural talents, and hone them into a weapon?

Ibiki was pleasant looking, a sweet and unthreatening face, educated but not noble in attitude- a perfect face man or infiltrator, able to both command attention and direct it away easily. I wondered when he would get his scars. What would force him into his change in career and turn him towards T&I?

I smothered another hiccup in another sip of tea, and although Mebuki didn’t look away from Masako, she fluttered one hand in an admonishment.

Right. Probably didn’t look too professional, the five year old hiccuping during their mission meeting.

I calmly put down my tea cup, and linked my hands together in my lap.

“Well, that all sounds very appropriate,” Masako agreed, nodding. “We’ve set up cots in the loft over the storage shed, so you can sleep there, although I’m afraid it’s quite cold at night.”

“We’re shinobi, Masako-san,” Ibiki said with a pleasant smile, and we all rose at his signal. “We’re quite used to much worse circumstances. A clean, dry barn is a treat, isn’t it?”

Mebuki nodded, smiling, and I followed her cue, squinching my eyes shut to show my smile.

“I’ll send Yachiru over with some dinner for you, later,” Masako said, and Ibiki nodded again.

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you.”

As we left, I hiccuped again, and Mebuki smacked me on the back.

“So, how suspicious are we?” she asked cheerfully, once we were on our way to the storage shed, and Ibiki frowned.

“Deeply. They’re hiding something, that’s for sure.”

“How do you know?” I asked, and Senbei leaped from Masaki’s shoulder down onto the top of my head, taking up his preferred perch.

“She made far too much eye contact, laughed at all my jokes- even the unfunny ones- and-”

“And the town is far less prosperous than it should be,” Mebuki finished for him, “keep an eye out, okay, greenie?”

“Yes, senpai!”

“We stay calm, we don’t antagonise anyone, and we do our job,” Mebuki instructed us both. “Sensei will be back soon. We just have to make sure nothing happens before that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, another update? it happened!  
Please, let me know what you think of the story. I finally got the impetus to write this chapter after re-reading all the comments I've received on this fic. It's mad inspiring, seeing your thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I'm a linguistics nerd with a lot of feelings about cryptog and compling. Watch me destroy this canon from the ground up and feast upon its remains.
> 
> i wrote this entirely for fun, and am posting it because my housemate encouraged me. There's probably going to be more, but please, let me know if you like it.
> 
> Today's note: Kakashi in kanji is probably <案山子> but Kishimoto never gave an official kanji name, so I'm just DOING MY BEST.


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